Masked Child
by ShadeDancer
Summary: A HP LotR Man in the Iron Mask xover. This is the story of Harry Potter and what happened when Albus Dumbledore saw that Harry was in the way of the molding of his twin brother, Harlan. Will contain SLASH later on.
1. Prologue

I know I shouldn't start another story, but I am stuck on the other two and I figured that posting a new story would be better than nothing at all.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I'm guilty I tell ya, guilty! Uh...wait...I'm innocent, innocent I tell ya! Ummm...What were the charges again? Nevermind, I plead the Fifth!

_Disclaimer 2_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Prologue

On July 31, 1980 Lily Potter gave birth to twin sons. The first twin, the one named as heir, was named Harlan Walter Potter and looked exactly like his father except for his hazel-green eyes. The second twin, Harold James Potter, also looked exactly like his father, but his eyes were the stunning green of his mother. Unfortunately what no one realized was that when Lily began to have complications and the twins were briefly forgotten, the twins were placed in the wrong bassinets and their birth times screwed up. Harold was really the first born, born at midnight of July 31st, Harlan coming a mere two minutes later. Yet for all this huge and unknown mistake, they were a happy family even when the Potters were forced into hiding for their lives. Neither Harlan nor Harold was given more attention than the other, and the brothers shared a close bond only twins ever possessed. Then, it had happened. Through betrayal Lily and James Potter had been found and murdered by a prophecy-driven Lord Voldemort, their twin sons the only survivors.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and close friend of the Potter family had been the first upon the scene of death and destruction. He had been the first to discover the twins and, being the only person to know the entirety of the prophecy involving one of the Potter children and Voldemort, had declared Harlan to be the savior of them all. Harlan had come out of the whole affair unscathed, while little Harry was now scarred upon his forehead and lying unconscious. At first Albus had thought to name Harry the savior, but had dismissed the idea after seeing Harlan sitting completely unharmed in the middle of the debris of what had once been a house. Harlan had also shown incidents of accidental magic more often, while in the beginning it had been feared that Harry would be a squib because he didn't have the outlandish displays of accidental magic his brother did. It was in this moment that Albus Dumbledore misconstrued a line of the prophecy and ignored the scar upon Harry's forehead, unbelieving that such an obvious wound could be the mark spoken of.

It was then as Albus held both boys in his arms that he came to a decision, one that would change the course of history and nearly destroy one small child. He would raise Harlan in Hogwarts and Harry Potter would not be known to exist, could not be left around to hold back the training his twin brother would surely need. Albus knew he would need to remain in firm control of Harlan's life, had to be the one person Harlan could count on and look up to, and Harry would only be a distraction.

"It must be done, my child." Albus Dumbledore murmured softly to the prone form of Harry, "Your brother must never know of you. I cannot bring myself to kill you, there might one day be need of you, but for now you must be hidden from the world. In the eyes of the world, Harold James Potter died this night."

* * *

Posted On: March 10, 2006


	2. A Child Seen

Here's the next chapter of this story, still having trouble getting anything written on the other ones. _(grimaces)_ sorry about that.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I'm guilty I tell ya, guilty! Uh...wait...I'm innocent, innocent I tell ya! Ummm...What were the charges again? Nevermind, I plead the Fifth!

_Disclaimer 2_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 1: _A Child Seen_

Seven-year-old Harry Potter was slightly nervous, the castle was bigger than he had imagined, but didn't let it stop him from pushing on. He knew he should be in bed right now, should be in the rooms he was never allowed to leave, but he hadn't been able to resist the slightly open door. He was so sick of always being kept inside, even if the Professor did say it was for his safety. Just once he wanted to feel the wind upon his face and see the sky without a window between him and it. He hoped Milpy didn't come to check on him either; the little house-elf was in charge of him and took her duty very seriously.

A bit more boldly now, Harry continued to creep forward, marveling at the pictures snoring or moving around in their frames and watching as the occasional ghost drifted by him. Thankfully they never noticed him; he would have been in sure trouble then. He knew all about the ghosts and the moving portraits even though there were none able to be in his rooms, knew how they could talk and gossip. The suits of armor were fascinating as well. Most of them stayed still and at attention, only shifting occasionally, but one set was creaking around in a wobbly duel that Harry couldn't help but stop to watch. Not long after that, Harry realized he was completely lost.

"Oh no," he moaned softly in a barely audible whisper, "I'm in so much trouble now."

Harry was so upset that it took him a while to notice a tugging sensation on his magic, he didn't know how he knew it was on his magic, but he did. Whatever was doing the tugging was gentle, loving, and yet there was an ancient power to it. On some level Harry sensed this presence was trying to help him and so he followed the tugging.

"This way?" he questioned in his soft, childish voice and the tugging came again to guide him.

Unbeknownst to Harry, not only was the Presence responding to his voice, but another had heard him speak as well. Professor Severus Snape heard the soft, childish voice and followed the sound, ready to torment the young soul out of bed. He knew it had to be Harlan Potter, it was summer and there were no other children at Hogwarts, so it had to be the blasted boy-who-lived and Severus was secure in the knowledge that the child was terrified of him.

"Which way now?" Severus could hear the boy say as he came up beside him, "This way then?"

Severus didn't know who the boy was talking to, but the child abruptly turned to face him as if suddenly sensing he was there even though Severus had been careful to keep to the shadows. For a long moment the two, man and child, were locked in a stare and Severus had a sudden epiphany. This wasn't Harlan Potter. Oh, physically they looked the same, but there were slight differences. This child before him was more slender, his hair more untamed. The child's eyes were also greener, more like Lily's eyes, and Severus could just make out a scar upon the child's forehead. The biggest difference though, was that this child before him wasn't frightened. This child returned his stare calmly, an air of curiosity about him. And then, as if he was never there, the child disappeared right as Severus reached out to touch him. For a long moment Severus thought he had seen some sort of apparition of the dead Potter twin, but he had felt the child's warm flesh briefly under his own hand, and thus the seeds of suspicion were planted.

… … … … …

"He is seeing you," Milpy wailed, "he is almost touching you. Professor Snape is seeing you. If Professor Snape is saying anything you's will be in trouble. Milpy will have to punish herself. His Headship will punish Milpy!"

"Please Milpy," Harry begged, his arm still tingling lightly where the man called Professor Snape had briefly touched him, "please don't say anything. Maybe Professor Snape will think I was a dream, or that I was Harlan and I ran away. You told me that Harlan and I look exactly alike and that he's afraid of Professor Snape. Please don't tell the Professor! If you tell him, he'll be angry and might not come to see me. He might not teach me anymore and he promised to bring me some new books next time he visited. Please Milpy?"

Milpy raised watering eyes to Harry and stopped banging her head against the wall. She knew she should tell the Headship what had happened, but then it would get her Harry into trouble. She didn't want to get her Harry into trouble, he was such a sweet child who was always nice to her unlike her former master. She also knew that her Harry was right, his Headship would punish her Harry by not visiting and he was the only one who ever came to see her Harry. Not even her Harry's mirror brother came to see her Harry, didn't even know her Harry existed. But her Harry knew, Milpy told her Harry to make him happy, told him stories of his mirror brother.

"Milpy is staying quiet," she finally said, squeaking as her Harry hugged her hard, "but Milpy is hoping Professor Snape's not saying nothing about seeing her Harry. Milpy and her Harry get in trouble then, we will."

"Thank you Milpy." Harry let go of the house-elf.

"Milpy is thinking that her Harry must be getting to bed," Milpy said sternly, "and that her Harry must not go out the door again."

"I promise Milpy." Harry said as he crawled back into bed, "Will you tell me a story? Will you tell me what Harlan did today?"

Harry fell asleep listening to Milpy tell him about his twin brother and what he had done that day. Even though Milpy talked differently than humans, he understood her well enough that he almost felt as if he was with his brother, doing the same things Harlan was. And right as Harry felt himself dropping fully into sleep, he felt the Presence from the hallway wrapping around him as if in a hug. He had never felt the Presence in his room before, but it was as if now that the Presence knew he was there it could find him and stay with him to keep him company when no one else could. If Harry felt any bitterness at his situation in that moment, it was lost to the arms of sleep and he would not dare express it to his Keeper lest he be punished.

… … … … …

Seven-year-old Harlan Potter woke feeling odd. He wasn't sick, but he felt as if for a brief while he had been whole before being ripped apart again. He didn't know what to make of it, and so did the only thing he could think of. He went searching for Albus Dumbledore and finally found the old man in his office, quill scratching across a piece of parchment as he dealt with the daily business. Ignoring the fact that the Headmaster of Hogwarts was obviously busy, Harlan walked around the cluttered desk and slipped into the old man's lap.

"Grandfather," Harlan's voice was soft, "I dreamed of a boy just like me, but he had a scar on his head. He seemed really nice to me, but every time I looked at the scar, it made my head hurt. I feel odd now, is it because of the dream?"

For a moment the quill stopped its soft scratching across the parchment before it deliberately began again, Albus keeping his voice carefully neutral as he spoke, "there's nothing to worry about. It was a dream, nothing more Harlan. Now, how about I finish up this letter and you and I will go down to breakfast together."

Harlan smiled up at his 'grandfather' and the old man graced the boy with a twinkling-eyed smile even as he was fiercely scheming in his head. Harlan had dreamt of Harry. That meant that something was either wrong with the dampening wards he had placed around the boy's rooms to keep him from being detected, or the boy had somehow broken through them via the twin bond he knew Harlan and Harry shared. It was probably Harlan's magical strength that had pushed through the wards Albus mused, thinking that Harry didn't have more than average amounts of power, and it would have been made all that much easier by the existing twin bond. Albus realized that Harry would have to be moved from Hogwarts. Distance would strain the twin bond and wards could deal with the rest, but something would have to be done about Harry's similar appearance to Harlan. He was starting to think it would save a lot of trouble if he was to just kill Harry, but he didn't know how it would affect Harlan through the bond and couldn't quite shake the feeling that Harry would become useful sometimes in the future. Even as Albus escorted Harlan down to breakfast, he continued to plan, and by the end of the meal he knew exactly what had to be done. All for the greater good of course.

* * *

Posted On: March 22, 2006


	3. The Mask

Warning: Tormented Harry ahead.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 2: _The Mask_

"How are you today Harry?" Albus asked as he walked into the child's room, eyes twinkling as usual.

"Professor," Harry looked up from the book he was reading in surprise, "I didn't know you were coming today?"

"I hadn't planned on it," Albus answered truthfully, "but I decided that there were things that needed to be done and that now was the best time. Now grab a cloak, you do have one don't you? We're going out."

"Out," Harry was both surprised and suddenly afraid, the Professor had never taken him out before and had denied all requests he had ever made to do so.

"Yes," the word was nearly terse and Harry saw a brief flicker of impatience cross the Professor's face before the benevolent features were back in place, "you're always wishing to go out, so we're going out."

Wordlessly Harry stood and gathered up his things to put them away, but after taking another look at the Professor he decided that it would be best to leave them for Milpy to clean up even though he hated making more work for the little house-elf. He was feeling uneasy and afraid, his magic churning inside of him as if it wished to escape. Had to Professor discovered that he had left his rooms last night, was he going to be punished in some way? Harry couldn't think of anywhere the Professor would want to take him, much less this late at night. The only thing that kept him from attempting to run, make a sudden bid for freedom as he had never done before, was the fact that he knew the Professor could stop him within seconds and that the Presence was back. As if sensing his worry, the Presence had wrapped around him and comforted him as if it was a mother and he the child. Unfortunately, he could sense unease within the Presence as well. Reluctantly Harry went and grabbed his cloak from where it had hung, long unused, upon a peg in the back of his wardrobe. Fumbling with the clasp a bit, Harry finally got it on and went back to stand in front of the Professor.

"I'm ready sir," Harry was proud that he wasn't crying from the fear that was filling him up.

"Good," the Professor gave a nod, "pull up your hood and give me your hand then. We must be quick, we mustn't let anyone see you."

Doing as he was bid, Harry took the Professor's hand and nearly had to run to keep up with the man as they twisted through the castle's passageways to reach a small side door that led out to the grounds. If it was possible, the Professor seemed to move even faster once they were out of the castle, not allowing Harry anytime to enjoy the fact that he was outside for the first time he could ever remember. Even after they reached the forest and no one could see the from the castle, the Professor did not slow. By the time they reached a cleared spot that it seemed the Professor had been aiming for, Harry was breathing heavily and his legs felt weak; there wasn't much exercise a child could get when locked up indoors after all.

"We're far enough away," Albus said to Harry, though he didn't elaborate on what they were far enough away from, "now, hold on tight and don't let go of my hand."

That was all the warning Harry got before he felt the air constrict tightly around him as it he were being forced inside some sort of cramped place, his body aching as he was roughly yanked through space to a completely different location than the one he had started from. This place wasn't the relatively intriguing forest he had been standing in moments ago, not even a different part of it. This new place was grimy, dark, and damp and Harry instinctively knew that it would look this way even in the brightest light of day. It was a shifty place, one that Harry doubted anyone of repute ever frequented on legitimate business. A creaky and dirt encrusted sign he barely caught a glance of before the Professor was pulling him down the street proclaimed this place to be Knockturn Alley. Harry's foreboding increased. Why was the Professor bringing him to such a place, and in the dead of night at that, when most of the shops appeared to be closed and only men appearing drunk and women in skimpy robes were about?

"Professor," Harry started to speak, only to find himself on the wrong end of the older man's wand and under a silencing spell.

"No talking," the Professor admonished, "not a word. Hurry now, can't have anyone seeing you."

For just an instant Harry could have sworn the Professor looked demented, but then their eye contact was broken and he could no longer see the Professor's face as he was once again pulled along. Over and over Harry stumbled on the rough paving, losing track of the turns they took through the maze that was Knockturn Alley, until he was roughly shoved inside a darkened doorway and through the hidden door it contained. Futilely Harry tried to speak, protest, tell the Professor that he wanted to go back to Hogwarts, that being outside was no longer fun, but the spell resisted all his efforts.

"Albus Dumbledore," a surprisingly well-groomed man seemed to materialize out of nowhere in front of them and Harry's eyes widened as panic became such a pressure upon his chest that he began to hyperventilate, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your esteemed presence."

"Cut the crap," Harry had never heard the Professor talk like that before, "do you have it ready?"

The man glowered, "it was short notice, but aye, I have it ready."

"Good," Harry felt himself being shoved forward, his hood falling away, "put it on him."

The man's eyes widened in protest, it seemed he might possibly possess a conscience after all, "but he's only a child! He looks like—"

Harry never saw the Professor move, but suddenly the other man was gasping for breath as the Professor's hand tightened around his neck, wand pressed firmly to his temple.

"You will do it Aramis," the Professor's voice was low, deadly, "and I will not hear another complaint from you. Never mind who he looks like. How is your little boy? Raoul? Won't he be about the same age as Harry here?"

The threat was unmistakable and Harry could see Aramis bow his head in defeat. No matter how much this seemed to go against the man's morals, he would not risk his own family for a stranger. Not even if he now realized that the strange child was the supposedly dead twin of the boy-who-lived. Deciding that it was his only chance, Harry made a sudden break for it. He would rather brave the dingy streets and the unknown world beyond than find out what was in store for him. He just didn't understand why the Professor was acting like this, surely all of this wasn't because he had dared venture out into Hogwarts in the middle of the night?

Before Harry could make the last few, desperate steps to the door, he was caught in a spell and flung roughly into a chair, restraints wrapping firmly about him. He had failed. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw Aramis approaching with a roughly carved wooden box that was set down upon a table that had just appeared next to his chair. Eyes wide, Harry managed to turn his head just enough so that he'd be able to see when the box was opened. It wasn't that he wanted to see what was in store for him, but that he had to. The box lid was opened with creaking slowness as if Aramis was hoping to wake up from a dream if he tarried long enough.

Inside the box Harry could see what appeared to be a jumble of metal. In horrid fascination Harry watched as the metal contraption was lifted out of the box. The first piece seemed to be some sort of cage, but it's use became horribly clear once the second and third pieces were taken from the box. A mask and a padlock. They were going to put him in that thing. Desperately Harry began to thrash as much as he could, rocking the chair around as he struggled once again to be free. For one long instant he thought he had actually succeeded, that he had broken through the spell holding him to the chair, but then he realized that he wasn't free. He was falling, falling backwards so that his head hit the rough stone floor with a crack that made him see stars. And through those stars he could just barely make out the Professors stony countenance.

"Do it Aramis." The Professor ordered coldly, "I want this over and done with so I can leave here and be well rid of this brat."

Neither the Professor nor Aramis took the time to set either him or the chair back upright as Aramis knelt down next to him, the mask of Iron held tightly in one hand. Iron. It wouldn't hurt him or completely stop him from using magic, but once it was on him it would inhibit his magic enough to prevent him from breaking out of the mask that was meant to cage his identity.

"Please," Harry mouthed the words even though he knew no sound would come out, the Professor's spell was strong.

"I'm sorry," Aramis had seen the movement of lips, "I'm sorry Harry."

Sorry was useless at this point. He might be sorry, but Aramis would do the task set down for him because the Professor had the means to bend the other man to his will. The mask slipped down over his face, suffocating him, his breath coming in short gasps through the slit cut for a mouth. But Harry's suffering was not to be a simple as the mask being put on and locked into place. The metal began to heat up. Hotter and hotter it became as the slightly too large mask was molded with flame to fit his young face better. Harry's senses went into overload. The heat, the smell of the metal, the Professor's chanting as he willed the iron to grow as Harry did, as he cursed the mask to be unable to be removed by any wizarding magic other than his own. Even if Harry's magic was somehow able to work its way through this iron prison, Harry knew he did not have the power or knowledge to circumvent the Professor's spells.

The heat finally stopped, but the Professor continued to chant, Harry's labored breathing rushing out through the mask to provide counterpoint to the spells. A hand slipped behind his head, Harry didn't dare open his eyes to peer through the slits and see what was going on, didn't actually know when he had closed his eyes to hold back the welling tears. He was being lifted up, finally, from the awkward position he had been laying in, and for a hopeful second he though the mask was slipping from his face. But the mask stayed in place, it had been molded to fit his face now, and the final part of the contraption was fitted into place. With a heavy snick the lock was slammed home, the Professor's spell securing it, and Harry was finally able to do what he had been trying to for the past hour, though he didn't know it had all taken that long. He screamed.

* * *

Posted On: April 8, 2006


	4. Imprisoned

I'm about half way through the next chapter of Desert Warrior, hopefully I'll have a chance to finish it within the next day or two.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 3: _Imprisoned_

Harry wasn't quite sure what had happened after that, but when he woke up he was no longer in the shop in Knockturn Alley. It took him a moment to orient himself, to reconcile that the horrible flashes he was seeing in his mind were real, before he began to hyperventilate. Desperately he brought his hands up to the cool, unyielding iron encasing his face and began to claw at the metal casing and lock in hopes of prying it off. While doing so he imagined that he could almost feel slight grooves in the metal where previous owners had tried to do the very same thing.

Whimpering even more frantically, he continued clawing at the mask until his fear exhausted him and it was too painful to keep tugging at the iron with his ripped fingernails and bloody fingers. An unnatural calm settled over him. The last thing he could remember was a scream harshly ripping its way free from his throat and the word _obliviate._ He knew the spell hadn't been aimed at him though, that one had been for Aramis so that the man would not remember what had transpired there that night; the Professor was not taking any chances with Aramis' conscience. With a sigh, Harry abandoned this hopeless train of thought and turned his attention to figuring out where he was now being held while the calm was still upon him.

The room was dark and musty, grime encrusting the walls. A lumpy mattress with a threadbare blanket was pushed up against one wall and in one corner there was a latrine hole beside which was a battered bowl with tepid water swirling in it. The fourth wall had a wide door of bars set into it. There was nothing else. Upon closer examination Harry saw grooves etched into the walls, marks just the right size to have come from human fingers. He had not been the first person trapped within this desolate cell, he did not want to think of what must have happened to its previous occupant. Harry felt his chest heave as if underneath a great pressure and a scream ripped its way free, echoing out thought the mask to bounce through the desolate corridors of his prison. If he would have known what sort of horrible creatures his screams would draw to him, he would have remained silent for the rest of eternity. Yet now he knew where he was. Azkaban. Placing him in an iron mask had not been enough for the Professor, he had thrown him in Azkaban as well. Harry still didn't know what he had done so horribly wrong that the Professor would do this to him.

… … … … …

At first it was only one or two dementors, their chill sweeping over Harry to leave him huddled upon the floor, weakly clawing at the mask encasing his face as he relived the horror of its donning again. He saw once again the cold look in the Professor's eyes where before he had only been able to see warmth, his fingers throbbing in pain as he tried to free himself from the iron mask.

"Please," he whimpered, "please no. Please."

"A child," one of the dementors rasped in a whisper, sounding startled as its companion echoed the phrase.

"A child."

Another dementor showed, soon followed by another, and Harry felt frozen to the bones even as his ears continued to hear the conversation going on about him. It seemed as if every dementor in Azkaban had heard the murmurs of a child and had come to the corridor in which Harry's cell was located. Then the crowd of gathered dementors parted and one that was obviously their leader came forth and Harry felt as if he had suddenly gone numb, he couldn't move, couldn't think, could only listen to the ghostly whispers the dementors uttered.

"A child should not be here," the Leader whispered almost sadly, "how did a child come to be here?"

"The man," one of the dementors whispered in answer.

"The old one with the beard," another further elaborated.

"The man with a sick soul," a third proclaimed, causing a murmur to run through the gathered dementors.

"He left the child to rot," the first dementor spoke again.

"But he's a child," the Leader whispered, broken, "has he no heart?"

"A child," the dementors began to whisper all over again as if it was a mantra, their voices swelling and rising until it was all Harry could hear.

"Yes," the Leader whispered, "a child, our child."

The Leader had come forward then and the door to Harry's cell swung open at her approach, Harry somehow knew the Leader was a female even through the numbness that held him, though she didn't touch the door. Behind her the dementors crowded closer to the bars of his cell, trying to get nearer to him. Harry remained huddled upon the floor, tried to remain huddled in on himself as the dementor lifted him up and lowered her head towards his. Panicked, he wondered if the dementor was going to suck out his soul as he had read they did, and hysterically wondered if she could with the mask in the way. But the dementor did not try and press her lips to the mouth slit, but to the forehead of his mask, directly over his scar, and Harry could feel the kiss burn even through the metal. As if some spell had been broken, Harry no longer felt numb and the dementor's chill no longer affected him negatively, but seemed to reach out to comfort him instead. The biggest change was in the dementors themselves though. No longer did he see the dementors in terms of scabby and decaying flesh, but viewed them in the ethereal forms they had possessed before black magic had twisted them into what they had become. His mind was also flooded with knowledge, knowledge of ages past, knowledge from the collective minds of the dementors, a mind he was now a part of.

"Our child," the Leader, Harry now knew her to be called Alara, once again whispered, and this time it was beautiful instead of raspy.

Out in the corridor the words were taken up, the mantra of 'a child' becoming 'our child'. Alara had tried to get the mask off of him then, seeing in his mind how it had come to be on him, but she had been unable to do so. One by one the dementors had tried all sorts of craft to remove the mask, but their magic had been unable to affect it, their hands unable to release the lock. Some of the dementors had actually wept them, distressed that in this first task they could not help their child, but Harry had gathered himself back together and bade them stop. From their mind he could tell that they would continue to try and remove the mask, but he also now knew that their magic was too different from that of wizards to be of any help. There was nothing else he could do but bear this burden, but now things weren't as bleak as when the mask had first been fitted to his face, as when he had woken up in this cell. Then he hadn't had the dementors to support him, to care for him. Now he did. It was amazing what being an individual, yet a part of a collective mind could do to boost ones morale.

… … … … …

It had been roughly two weeks since Harry had found himself in Azkaban and became the child of dementors. Since then they had moved him away from the mean cell he had first been laid in and deeper into the bowels of Azkaban where they could keep him from prying eyes and could stay with him. His new room was nice and comfortable, if a bit sparse, and the dementors had made sure he was fed well. They had also begun to teach him some things, like how to move about their collective mind as well as to keep his own thoughts closed off when he wished them to be. It was difficult, but Harry welcomed the tasks as it kept his young mind from dwelling on his current plight. Already a few times he had lapsed into despair only to find either Alara or her mate at his side to comfort him and cheer him up as much as they were able, though they weren't overly affectionate in their attempts. Currently he was working on learning how to master the script the dementors used, the runes flowing uncertainly from the quill onto parchment Alara had procured from somewhere.

A sudden '_pop'_ from behind him startled Harry from his concentration and he whirled, he knew that sound.

"Milpy?" Harry was both excited and shocked to see the little house-elf, "what are you doing here?"

"Milpy was sad and missing her Harry," the little house-elf proclaimed, bobbing up and down, "His Headship made Milpy to work in the kitchen, but Milpy was sad and the other house-elves was wondering. His Headship said the house-elves could not be wondering and told Milpy to come to her Harry. But what is her Harry wearing?"

Milpy had finally gotten a good look at Harry and her eyes had widened in shock, her voice filled with disbelief. Bitterly Harry turned away from the little house-elf, not noticing the tears threatening in her tennis ball eyes.

"It's a mask, Milpy," Harry's voice was flat, "the Professor had it put on me and then threw me in here, but here wasn't nearly as nice as it is now."

The little house-elf was aghast, "not His Headship. Not to Milpy's Harry. But her Harry doesn't lie. Oh my Harry!"

As the dementors had done, Milpy tried to remove the mask using her house-elf brand of magic, but it proved just as futile as all the efforts Alara and the others had made. When her every effort failed, Milpy started to bawl, pulling her batty ears over her eyes as she twisted them. Harry was at a loss at what to do for the little house-elf and so settled for resting a hand upon Milpy's shoulder as Alara had begun to do whenever he was distraught, even though he could now use some comfort himself. As if thinking her name had conjured her to his side, Alara appeared in the doorway of his room and looked curiously at Milpy while wondering what had happened to distress both a house-elf and her Harry.

"She is not one of ours," Alara stated matter-of-factly in the dementor tongue as she came to stand next to him and place a hand upon his shoulder.

"No," Harry replied in the same language, causing Milpy to jerk her head up in surprise when she realized he wasn't using English, "Milpy had been my companion as long as I can remember. The man with the sick soul sent her away to rot with me so she did not accidentally reveal my existence in her sorrow."

"My Harry?" Milpy questioned, "What is My Harry doing?"

Harry turned to Milpy, "this is Alara, Milpy. She leads the dementors and takes care of me. They have claimed me as their child and brought me from the dirty cell the Professor left me in to hide me away here."

For a moment Milpy glared defiantly up at Alara before dropping her eyes and wringing her hands in the tea cozy she wore, "Milpy will share her Harry, just don't send Milpy away from her Harry. Please let Milpy take care of her Harry!"

Alara could not repress the ghost of a smile that crossed her face as the house-elf before her managed to appear defiant and yet subservient all at once. "I will not separate you from your Harry, Milpy, but you must share him. Harry is our child now just as he is your Harry."

Milpy nodded sharply and looked shrewdly, or as shrewdly as a house-elf could, around Harry's room and declared, "Milpy's Harry is needing things, Milpy shall be getting them."

With a _pop_ similar to the one that had heralded her arrival, Milpy disappeared before Harry could stop her. With a sigh he settled back down with the parchment he had been working on as Alara drifted back off, now satisfied that he was fine. Yet Harry couldn't concentrate on the work he had been doing before as he waited for Milpy to return, he wondered what she had gone to get.

Thankfully Milpy wasn't gone long, but when she came back she was nearly in tears, a big pile of books teetering next to her.

"All her Harry's things," Milpy wailed, "all her Harry's things. Gone. All gone but books. Milpy brought all the books. Milpy wouldn't leave them to disappear. Milpy knows how her Harry loves his books."

A coldness settled in Harry as he went over to comfort Milpy, the mask seeming to constrict even more around his face. All his personal things were gone, most likely destroyed or given to Harlan. The Professor was good; Harry had to give the old bastard that.

* * *

Posted On: April 21, 2006


	5. Outside and Away

is finally working again!Enjoy, for I probably won't get to update again until I get caught up with the projects I have due for my classes.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 4: _Outside and Away_

It was with an odd sense of expectancy that Harry realized it was his birthday. In just a short time he would be nine. He was actually looking forward to having a birthday this year, unlike last year when he had miserably snapped at everyone to leave him alone. Today also marked his second year of being imprisoned in Azkaban, two years of wearing the mask. He had realized the coinciding of the dates last year. The Professor had certainly known how to make a birthday memorable. This year would be different though. Milpy had somehow gotten a hold of a tiny cake for him and the dementors had promised him a wish.

"We have no presents to give you," Alara had said mournfully, "indeed it is risky to even allow you to keep the books Milpy finds you, but we can try and grant you a wish that is in reason and in our power to give. Think well upon it and be prepared to share it with us tomorrow."

He had been thinking about it ever since, but was still unable to come up with the perfect wish. Oh, he knew of many things he wanted to wish for, but they were beyond what the dementors could give. They couldn't remove the mask, couldn't give him his freedom, couldn't return his parents to him. Not that Harry would ever voice that last wish even if he thought it possible, it would break Alara's heart and Necromancy wasn't something to be messed with lightly. Necromancy was what had twisted the dementors into what they were today. Perhaps he would wish for a new set of clothes. The baggy and rough set of uniform prison issue clothes he had woken up in tow years ago were now ratty and threadbare, nearly worn through in spots.

It would be great to have something soft to wear, something unstained and clean, but Harry suspected that if the dementors could get him new clothes that they would be a duplicate of what he wore already. Come to think of it, Milpy never mentioned trying to find him clothing either, but that could be because she was a house-elf. He was surprised that she occasionally managed to bring him a book or some small treat. He suspected the books had been abandoned by their previous owners as most were well worn and often bound with spellotape to keep them from falling apart. Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost didn't realize that the dementors were gathering around him until Alara spoke.

"We are ready to hear your wish, our child," Alara told him via the collective mind of the dementors so that they all could know what was going on, and Harry suddenly knew what he was going to wish for.

"I wish to go outside for a bit," Harry whispered aloud even as he also relayed the thought through the collective mind, "I only ever remember being outside once, the night I was doomed to wear the mask."

Harry heard Alara breath a soft sigh and she turned to her mate.

"Near dawn would be best, right after the guards change," he said slowly, picking up on Harry's unconscious desire to see the sun, "and the courtyard is always empty unless a new prisoner is brought. The guards will never know, do not know of our child. They will not come near enough to us to become suspicious either."

"It can only be for a brief bit," Alara warned Harry as she turned back to his, glad she was able to grant this wish to her child.

"I still wish it," if anyone could see Harry's face beyond the mask they would have seen the expression of a wistful child.

"Your wish is granted," Alara confirmed and held out her hand to Harry to seal the promise, "we shall have to be quick. I will come back for you when the time comes."

A few hours later Harry almost couldn't believe it was true as he took Alara's proffered hand again and followed her quickly through the dark and silent warren of halls of Azkaban, a handful of the dementors not currently assigned to patrol accompanying them. Only once during their trek through the corridors of Azkaban did they come across an auror on guard, and even if he had not fled in the opposite direction at their approach, he wouldn't have seen Harry in the midst of the dementors or believed that a child would willingly be encircled by what the wizarding world viewed as the most vile creatures to walk the earth.

By the time they emerged from the bowels of the prison and made their way to the courtyard door, the sky was beginning to lighten. Every bit of this outside world was an assault on senses used to moldering stone and dank gloom. That wasn't to say that the island of Azkaban wasn't a dreary place on the outside, but it was much less stifling in darkness outside the confines of stone walls. Harry's feet were tentative as he moved from the relative and familiar safety of the prison walls. The dementors let him go out by himself, holding themselves back to let their child do this on his own, they didn't want to intrude on his wonder besides feeling what emotions slipped past his blocks.

For a moment Harry's steps seemed almost aimless until it became clear that he was being drawn to the single growing thing in the courtyard, the single growing thing upon all of Azkaban. It was a tree, its bark that once could have been silver or white now a dull grey in parody of death. No one knew what color flowers the tree had ever bore, if any. Harry came to a halt under the bare grey branches of the tree, one hand reaching out to lightly caress the withering grey bark as something extraordinary happened. The sun rose. Now the fact that the sun rose wasn't a miracle in itself, but the fact that the sun's light managed to pierce the gloom of Azkaban to shine directly onto Harry was.

The sun light seemed to engulf Harry and the tree, causing Harry's eyes to water and tears to stream down his face at the unfamiliar brightness. A scattering of those tears fell through the eye slits of the iron mask as Harry pitched his head forward in an attempt to shield his eyes from the light and splashed upon the roots of the dying tree. In horror Alara tried to reach her child, but a pure light had surrounded him, keeping them apart.

"Harry child!" Alara cried out as Harry fell to his knees, hand still touching the now-blooming tree.

The light flared, forcing the dementors to flee back into the gloomy protection of Azkaban. When they could finally emerge again, Harry was gone.

… … … … …

He was falling through the light. It was shooting around him, both comforting and harsh. The knowledge of ages past flowing through the light, just waiting to be explored. Desperately, Harry reached out to stop his fall and the light flared again. Slowly the light that had engulfed him receded, and Harry once again felt the bark of the tree under his hand, the ground firmly beneath his knees. But this tree thrummed with life, the silver bark smooth and the flowers blooming in white profusion. The ground beneath him was not barren, the air not heavy with gloom or scented with the perfume of a decaying beach meant to imprison those who dwelt on a forsaken island. He wasn't, couldn't, be on Azkaban any longer and he could no longer sense the communal mind. As Harry realized this a hand, a human hand, landed on his shoulder and Harry whirled in shock, staring up fearfully at the man speaking to him. In the past few years the only contact Harry had with other humans had been the insane prisoners of Azkaban, and this large man before him looked anything but insane.

… … … … …

Two months had passed since the War of the Ring and Aragorn still found it hard on occasion to believe that he was really the King, that they had really entered the Days of Peace. There were also times when he wished to be able to melt into anonymity, to take up a Ranger's gear and disappear into the wild. It was why he took these early morning walks just as the sun was rising so that he could enjoy time away from duties and responsibility without those of Gondor's court surrounding him to curry favor. People had come to respect this time as his, and therefore he was surprised to see a kneeling figure under the White Tree. No one was ever out here at this hour and so Aragorn assumed something must be wrong with the bowed figure. Moving with the silent grace of a Ranger, or someone raised among the elves, Aragorn approached the figure and placed a hand upon their shoulder, his other resting upon his knife just in case.

"Are you alright?" The figure had startled at his touch, drawing back from him as he spoke.

But Aragorn was just as shocked as the boy, he could tell the slight figure was a boy now, and probably not very old at that. The child looked half-starved, his clothes rags about his thin frame, but that wasn't what really caught Aragorn's attention. The child's head was encased in metal, frantic breaths rasping through an aperture left for his mouth, bright green eyes fearfully staring at him from out of their holes. This boy was definitely not much more than a child. Who would dare do something so cruel to a child? No child could possibly do something evil enough to warrant such punishment.

"It's all right little one," Aragorn spoke as if to a wild animal, hands out to show he meant no harm, "I won't hurt you."

Gradually the child began to relax, his shaking abating as he stopped shrinking away.

"Yes," Aragorn continued to coax, "that's right. There's nothing to fear. Come on, take my hand. We'll see if we can get this thing off of you. My name is Aragorn."

Harry allowed Aragorn to help him to his feet, trusting this man even though he was surprised to hear another human speak in a tongue that was so similar to the dementor's language.

"I'm Harry," he finally managed to speak; "The mask won't come off. It's hopeless."

The child's resignation was heartbreaking.

"We will still try," Aragorn reassured Harry as he began to lead the child through the castle complex, softly asking questions as they went.

The odd pair met no one on their way to the castle smithy, but the blacksmith was already up and hard at work by the time they entered his domain. Quickly Aragorn explained what little he knew of the situation, which wasn't much. He had found out that Harry was nine years old and a man he called the Professor had ordered the mask put on him. The blacksmith set to examining the iron mask and declared the lock would have to be busted off. Quickly the smith gathered the tools he'd need, but Harry shrunk away in fear as the man tried to approach him. Letting the man look over the mask and lock had been one thing, but to let him so near with those tools was another. Harry had given his trust to Aragorn easily, but wasn't too sure about this new man who looked as if he could easily break him in half.

"Perhaps I should try," Aragorn took the tools from the protesting smith, speaking softly to Harry until he relaxed enough for Aragorn to attempt to bust off the lock.

Still speaking to Harry, Aragorn raised the smith's hammer and brought it down on the spike they had wedged into the iron lock. Harry whimpered but held still as he watched the hammer descend, the whimper becoming a cry when the hammer actually struck the spike, his head jarring painfully within the mask. The spike had shattered, a red glow fading from the lock and mask before Aragorn's very eyes.

"Magic," the blacksmith grunted, moving away slightly, "ain't nothing here will get that thing off the boy."

Harry hung his head in despair; he had not realized how badly the expected failure would hurt him. "I told you."

"We're not giving up yet," Aragorn stated firmly suddenly knowing he would deeply regret it if he gave up on freeing the boy from the mask, "if nothing here will work, then we'll go to the elves."

* * *

Posted On: April 30, 2006


	6. The Home of Elrond

I've taken all my finals and am finished with my classes until fall _(happy dance)._ I had attempted to write an update for Desert Warrior, for those of you who read it, but the next chapter didn't want to come yet so I wrote this.

_**Please excuse any butchering of elvish in here; I was using multiple sites to be able to get close to the meanings I wanted. If anyone can recommend a good site please email me.**_

_I now also have a myspace account and will try and keep people posted on how things/my writing is going. If you have a myspace account and want to add me, send me a message with the word fanfiction in it somewhere. The link is on my profile._

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 5: _The Home of Elrond_

Harry had seen many beautiful and awe-inspiring things during these last days of travel from Gondor to Rivendell, but none of it had been comparable to the heart of Imladris. Held safely in the saddle before Aragorn, the man's arms comfortingly tight about him, Harry tried to take in everything at once. Next to them, Arwen sat easily upon her horse, pointing things out to him and telling him bits of stories about her home. From time to time, Aragorn with chime in with bits and pieces, but mostly he remained content to ride silently and listen as Harry and Arwen talked. It warmed him to have a child trust him so completely, to have a child to watch over. Aragorn was starting to despair of ever having children of his own, and Arwen's slowly increasing frailness was placing that dream even farther out of both their reach.

"Welcome Harry," Arwen was saying, "to the Last Homely House."

"Yes indeed," a voice spoke from the edge of the main courtyard they had just entered into, "Welcome to Rivendell."

"_Adar_," Arwen was more than a little pleased to see her father and slid from her saddle to embrace him.

"Arwen," Elrond returned the hug before turning to clasp Aragorn's hand in greeting, "Aragorn. What is it that brings you hence? We had not expected you for another month."

Gently Aragorn drew Harry forth from where the child had taken up refuge behind him, "we came to seek the aid of Elladan and Elrohir in freeing this child from this mask. There is some magic preventing its removal, my smiths can do nothing."

Calmly Elrond inclined his head and led the way to where Arwen's brothers could be found, but Aragorn knew the Lord of Rivendell well enough to see that his father-in-law was keeping his emotions in check, could sense the indignation and fury under the calm façade. Children were extremely sacred to the elves and were meant to be cherished, to see a child treated ill was a high crime in their eyes. Aragorn knew that as soon as Harry was seen to Elrond would summon him aside to find out how a child came to be so mistreated, but currently their first priority was to remove the mask.

It took a bit of work to round up Elladan and Elrohir for the two had decided that it was a good day to relax and cause mischief. At last, though, they were found. Elrond giving them a stern look that had them quickly disabling whatever new prank they had concocted. Elrond withheld any lecture he might normally have given, instead deeming it more important to send them in the direction of their workshop where Aragorn was waiting with Harry. Immediately the brothers grew serious and fell to examining the mask, one of them striking lightly at the lock once with a rod to examine the flow of magic binding the mask to the child.

"This is quite complex," Elrohir mused, tapping lightly on various parts of the mask, "if the Dwarves had not lost most of their magical lore of old I would send for one to ask an opinion. As it is we will have to do the best that we can here."

"Going for the lock will do no good," Elladan finally spoke, having remained pretty much silent until that point, "that is where the magic is focused and the most concentrated. We'll have to bust through the cage here, where the magic is weakest."

Lightly Elrohir traced a finger over a small area right where Harry's scar lay beneath the iron, not that they knew that, and it was also the spot where Alara had kissed when she had claimed him as a child of the dementors. Where he touched with his fingers, where he had traced out a rune, the metal warmed and Elrohir traced a heated line through that point down under Harry's chin so that the mask would crack once the week spot was breached. At the feel of heat, Harry whimpered in memory, felt as if he was suffocating all over again. At the terrified sound Elladan hastily busied himself with readying his tools, and when he indicated he was ready, Elrohir positioned Harry's head upon an anvil and held the child in place so that they could work as quickly as possible. Aragorn, sensing Harry's fear and need, held the child's hands in his own as he spoke quietly to him.

Over and over again Elladan lightly tapped his hammer against the inch wide spike he had placed length wise against the mask, unwilling to use any real force incase the spike would drive through to pierce the child's flesh underneath the iron; his task wasn't made easier by the fear he could feel rolling off the child in waves as Harry relived the moment the mask had first been put upon him. Slowly the mask began to crack, a thin line running from the back of the skull to under the chin, and Elladan began to painstakingly widen this crack, always careful to keep the spike from getting too near the trembling boy's flesh. It was a wonder the child hadn't passed out from the overwhelming fear he was currently going through. At last, the elvish smith stepped back and indicated that he thought the mask could be pried open.

Sitting Harry up carefully, Aragorn gently pried the cage section off and let it fall to the ground with a jarring _clank_ before reaching up once again the remove the now-cracked apart mask from Harry's face. Harry himself had stopped breathing, his small body shaking and trembling, partly in fear of no longer wearing the mask and partly because he half-expected for some charm to activate and encase him back in the cage once again. The mask slipped to the floor, still broken and not trying to mend itself, and Harry could feel air caressing softly against his face for the first time in years. He couldn't believe it, he was free. Tears threatened in his eyes, tears Harry had never really allowed himself since the mask had been put on him, and Harry launched himself at Aragorn before anyone really had a chance to see his face. Understandingly, Aragorn wrapped his arms snugly around Harry's slender frame and allowed the child to cry out his emotions, the boy's face hidden against his chest, until the tears were spent and Harry slept from sheer emotional exhaustion.

While this was happening, Elladan and Elrohir saw to the masks utter destruction, painstakingly breaking it into pieces before finally casting it into the burning flames of their forge fires. Then, and only then, once the mask was consumed and Harry asleep, did Aragorn shift Harry so that he was cradled in his arms to allow everyone to see the face he himself had only gotten a brief glimpse of as the mask fell to the ground.

Harry's face was pale, as was to be expected of skin hidden from the sun, and was almost elfin in appearance. The eyes Aragorn knew to be a startling green were framed by thick, dark lashes and a jagged scar upon his forehead graced Harry's otherwise flawless skin.

"He's such a sweet child," Arwen's voice broke.

"Who could have dared hurt him so?" Elrohir seemed angry, "It's easy to see he's an innocent."

Aragorn shook his head sadly and stood, careful not to disturb Harry from his sleep, "let me lay him down and then I will tell you what I know."

"Place him in the room across from mine, the one next to Arwen's," Elrond instructed, "so that we can keep an eye out for him. We shall meet you in my study."

"I'll stay with Harry," Arwen offered, her eyes still running over the boy's face, "I've already heard what Aragorn has to say and don't really wish to hear it repeated again."

Elrond nodded his understanding and went to send for refreshments before going to join the others in his study. Aragorn joined them a few minutes later after having seen Harry tucked into bed. When he had left the room, Arwen had been sitting beside the child's bed, stroking his hair and singing him a soft lullaby. It was a sight that near broke his heart. Deliberately Aragorn pulled himself from his thoughts and began to tell the others about Harry, and how he had come to realize that the child wasn't from Middle-Earth at all, but a whole different world. He shared with them what Harry had been able to tell him of his family and the Professor that had been his guardian before betraying him and throwing him into a prison. Lastly, Aragorn told of where he had found Harry; how the boy believed that magic residing within the White Tree had brought him here; and of the dementors, who sounded a lot like the Nazgûl in some ways, who had cared for him and taught him. It was a lot for everyone to take in, indeed Aragorn was only coping so well because he had been given time to think over this information before hand, and Elrond suggested they all take a break to think on what they had heard before deciding what was to be done with Harry. The refreshments lay untouched on the table that had sat between the four of them, none had the stomach for food after that tale.

Meanwhile, Arwen had stopped humming her soft lullaby and had curled up next to Harry, holding the little boy close as she continued to stroke his hair. This was her child, her vision child. In the beginning she had dreamt of a child that was of her body and Aragorn's blood, but as she had weakened the vision had changed. The child had grown thinner, the eyes brighter like the glint of gems, the hair darker, and a scar had been visible upon her child's forehead. Harry's hair was a bit too dark and his features not quite correct, but there was no mistaking the eyes or scar and she had a feeling that she knew what would make Harry become the child in her vision. The only thing she had to do was convince Aragorn that she was right, and that wouldn't be all that hard, she had seen the longing in him as he had held and spoken with Harry. Satisfied that everything would work out all right, Arwen drifted off into sleep, Harry curled up against her as a child sleeps against a mother. Neither of the two sleeping figures stirred when Aragorn came in later to check on them, neither knew of the plan coming together in the mind of the once-Ranger King.

… … … … …

It was dark when Harry woke in the unfamiliar room due to a nightmare, feeling the warmth of another person lying next to him. For a moment he was scared, holding himself stiff in the arms wrapped about him, but then he realized that it was Lady Arwen who held him so lovingly. Harry began to relax once again until he realized that relaxing meant sleep, and sleep possibly meant the return of the nightmare. Careful not to disturb Lady Arwen as she looked like she could use some sleep, Harry crawled from the bed. For a moment he swayed there, off balance and lightheaded without the mask, before deciding to take a walk in hopes that Aragorn might still be up. Aragorn had always been awake before when Harry went looking for him in Gondor. Unfortunately, Harry realized that he had no idea where to go once he made his way quietly out into the hallway. Harry was tempted to turn back and risk the nightmares coming again, but then he noticed a glimmer of light peaking out under the door across the hallway from the one he had just left. Maybe it was Aragorn.

It wasn't Aragorn Harry discovered on the other side of the door when he slightly pushed it open though. It was Lord Elrond, Lady Arwen's father. Lord Elrond was working on some papers at a desk, but he looked up as soon as Harry was standing in the doorway, nixing Harry's idea of sneaking quietly back out.

"I'm sorry Lord Elrond," Harry looked down nervously at intruding on the elf's privacy, his hands twitching up nervously to hide his face, "I was looking for Aragorn, but didn't know where he was and then I saw the light—"

With a slight rustle of fabric, Elrond was on his feet and at Harry's side before the nervous youth could shy away and began to gently lead him over to the chair he had been occupying. All the while he held the trembling hands in his own, seeing in the child the unconscious desire to once again be able to hide his face.

"It's alright, _tithen-min_," Elrond soothed Harry, "come tell me what's wrong."

Just as he would have done with his own children when they came to him at night, Elrond drew Harry into his lap and ran his fingers through the silky hair. Harry resisted this for a moment, sitting stiff and uncomfortably on Elrond's lap, before slowly realizing that Elrond didn't mean him any harm and relaxed. Unwittingly Harry had wounded Elrond with his initial fear, never before had Elrond had a child be uncomfortable around him, but Harry wasn't used to anyone caring for him in this way. Alara had never really cuddled with him, and the Professor sure hadn't, but Lady Arwen had told him about her father before they came to Rivendell and Harry trusted what she had said.

"I had a nightmare, Lord Elrond," Harry whispered at Elrond's gentle prompting, "and I don't want to go back to sleep incase it comes back again."

"It sometimes helps to speak of our nightmares and dreams," Elrond hinted that he would be willing to listen, that he would be there should Harry need him to be.

Elrond kept running his hands through Harry's hair as Harry tentatively began to whisper about the night the mask was placed upon him, it was painfully clear that Harry had experienced little affection in his life. For the first time in ages Elrond actually found he wanted to physically hurt someone, wanted to make it so the man who had hurt Harry was writhing in pain under his hands, something that was against his Healer's code. He had thought he had left such urges behind when the first war with Sauron had ended.

It was easy to see how Aragorn had gotten so attached to the child in the short time he had been in Middle-Earth. After they had parted ways earlier to think on what could be done for Harry, Aragorn had come back to speak with him, expressing his desire to keep Harry and make him a part of the family. He had been hesitant to give his blessing, not knowing much of Harry other than the horrors Aragorn had related, but now as the child spoke he could see the pure heart within the boy.

Elrond suddenly knew that if Arwen was in agreement with Aragorn's plans then he would give his blessing, already this small child was burrowing his way to find a place within his heart; Harry would always have a home here in Rivendell and he would gladly teach the child what he knew. Harry would never be helpless again. A large yawn split Harry's next words as the child continued to talk, and Elrond saw that the boy's eyes were already closed. With a smile Elrond gathered Harry more securely in his arms so that he could rise and lay Harry down where he would be more comfortable.

"No," Harry whimpered at the motion, his eyes opening slightly, "please don't leave me alone. Please Lord Elrond."

"Shhh, _tithen-min_," Elrond soothed as he settled back into the chair, keeping his arms around Harry, "it's alright, we shall stay as we are. Close your eyes and sleep, it's safe to do so. I will not let the nightmares come."

"Thank you, Lord Elrond," Harry whispered, before yawning again.

"You may call me _daer-adar_," Elrond said on impulse, not even sure Harry was still awake to hear, "it means great-father, like grandfather. Lord Elrond is too formal to keep using."

* * *

Posted On: May 22, 2006


	7. To Love a Child

I've gotten exactly 433 words on the next chapter of Desert Warrior done. I consider that progress. Hopefully that will be the next story updated, but I'm not sure. I'll try and keep everything updated on the blog on myspace, a link is in my profile.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 6: _To Love a Child_

A light knock upon the study door roused both Harry and Elrond as Arwen and Aragorn entered right after.

"_Adar_," Arwen was worried, "have you seen Harry? He's missing."

"I'm here Lady Arwen," Harry spoke sleepily from Elrond's lap, "I didn't mean to worry you. I'm sorry."

Arwen smiled and hugged Harry to her before passing him to Aragorn so that he could do the same, "it's alright, _tithen-min_, we were just afraid you might have gotten lost. Are you hungry?"

Harry nodded eagerly at the thought of food and started to follow Aragorn to the door before he turned and ran back to Elrond, "are you coming too Lo—_daer-adar_?"

Arwen gave her father a look, which he ignored, as he bent down slight to take Harry's hand, "I will, _tithen-min_."

Harry walked along with the three adults, but Elrond could tell there was something on Harry's mind, "what is it, _tithen-min_? What do you want to ask?"

"What's going to happen to me? Are you going to send me home; back to Azkaban?"

It was the question everyone had been hoping to avoid until there was a set plan they could use to reassure Harry.

Elrond at least, had part of an answer for Harry, "you will not be going back to your old life, _tithen-min_; that was no place for a child."

Harry accepted this partial answer, glad at least he would not have to return to Azkaban no matter how fond of Alara he had become. It wasn't until they were almost at the Morning room where breakfast was served that Harry spoke again. The adults were expecting another question they couldn't yet answer, but this time that was not the case.

"What does _tithen-min_ mean?"

Elrond smiled down at Harry, "it means little one in Sindarin, one of the languages of the elves. Would you like me to teach it to you?"

"Please," Harry's eyes were shining, "I like to learn new things, but most of the time I had to teach myself from books. It's hard to learn to speak new languages from books though. The Professor used to teach me Latin, when he still liked me, but I had to teach myself other languages from books Milpy got me. I sort of just knew Adûnaic after the dementors claimed me and was able to translate it into Westron from the similarities."

"Then we'll have fun teaching you a lot of things," Aragorn told Harry happily, "and not only book things, but how to ride and camp. When you're older we'll teach you to fight."

Arwen didn't look all that happy at the thought of Harry learning to fight, but kept her peace. It seemed Aragorn was already considering Harry being still around in a few years. She would definitely talk to him and her father after breakfast about making Harry a member of the family; Harry himself had already made headway upon winning over her obstinate father without even knowing he was doing so.

… … … … …

"Will you give your blessing, _Adar_," Arwen asked her father, slightly anxious.

After breakfast, she had pulled Aragorn aside while Harry went off with the twins to explore Rivendell, but she hadn't even needed to broach the subject dearest to her heart. Aragorn had brought it up first. Now they were presenting their idea in full to Elrond, hoping that he would agree to their blood adopting Harry as they would need him to perform the ceremony.

"I will," Elrond gave his blessing, "on the condition the bond is made with the rest of the family as well."

Arwen frowned, "what are you playing at _Adar_?"

Elrond raised a hand to gently still his daughter's words, "in time I will sail to Valinor, Galadriel and Celeborn with me. I do not yet know what your brothers will decide, but there are some who will not leave these shores and they shall need someone to turn to when a leader is needed. The twins have not the temperament, but I see in Harry what they lack."

"I think," Aragorn answered when Arwen could not, "that the choices should be Harry's."

"Then we should go find Harry," Elrond announced, "and free him from the dubious influence of Elladan and Elrohir."

Unfortunately, of the trio there was no sight until hours later when they came cantering back into the courtyard with a guest. Almost as soon as the horses had been heard upon approach, Aragorn and Arwen had made their way to the courtyard to meet up with Elrond. As soon as the horses stopped, Aragorn was immediately at Harry's side to pull him from the saddle while Elrond bean to berate his sons.

"It was so much fun," Harry's excited voice piped up before Aragorn could start in on how worried he had been, interrupting Elrond's speech at the same time, "Elladan and Elrohir taught me how to ride, I only fell twice, and then we ran into Legolas. He started to show me how to shoot a bow, but his is too big for me. He says we'll need to find one my size so he can teach me."

Arwen gave a barely audible groan at the thought of Harry already learning to use a bow, even though it was common among the elves to start teaching them young, while Aragorn turned to greet his friend. Harry had wriggled free of his hold and had turned to give the horse he had ridden a farewell pat before Elladan and Elrohir led the horses back to the pastures.

"Bye Fëa," Harry stroked the horse's velvety nose, loving the way the jet colored stallions mane seemed to shimmer with starlight as the wind blew through it, "I'll come see you later."

Elrond glared at his sons, "you let him ride Fëa! That horse has never let anyone on its back, let alone to ride him!"

The twins had the grace to look sheepish, "he took to Harry right away and after that the other horses shied away from his as if knowing Harry had been claimed. I think we were right about Fëa being one of the Mearas, or a descendant of one."

Elrond didn't need to say anything, his look was enough to start the twins to defending themselves, "we were beside him all the time and caught him both times he fell. We—"

"Don't be mad at them, _daer-adar_," Harry was slightly distressed "I was the one who talked them into riding."

"Not that you had to try very hard," Elrond commented dryly, "but I will let the matter rest. There are some things we need to talk to you about, _tithen-min_, I am sure Elladan and Elrohir can entertain Legolas for a bit while we do so."

"Alright," Harry allowed himself to be led to Elrond's study, the twins and Legolas heading in the other direction to take care of the horses before going to find a suitable bow for Harry.

… … … … …

Harry was a bundle of nerves and suddenly wondered if he had made the right decision of doing this blood-adoption thing; they were going to give him a new name as well. Sure he wanted Aragorn as a father, Arwen as mother, Elrond as his _daer-adar_, and the twins would be more like brothers than uncles; but what if one day they decided that they didn't want _him_ anymore. He didn't think he could handle that. Harry got up and began to walk around in circles, picking at the fabric making up the robe they had given him to wear as he debated the wisdom of running away right then and there to save himself the heartache. He had just made up his mind to do so, he didn't think it would be too hard to climb out the window and to the ground, when the door opened and in walked Lord Elrond.

"Come _tithen-min_," Elrond held out a hand to Harry, "it's time."

Harry stilled, looking up with his wide emerald eyes, nerves clearly showing. In an uncharacteristic gesture, Elrond sank to his knees upon the floor before Harry, taking Harry's hands into his own.

"It will be alright _tithen-min_," Elrond kept his voice low and soothing, "tell me what troubles you."

Harry trembled, lowered his eyes to the floor, and said in a voice almost too soft to hear, "what if they decide they don't want me anymore? What if they try and get rid of me too?"

Elrond lifted Harry's chin so Harry looked him in the eyes, saw behind him to where Aragorn and Arwen stood, "never will we not want you. Children are very special to our people, but you are special to us in your own right, _tithen-min_. A blood-adoption is not to be entered into lightly and neither Aragorn nor Arwen would have suggested it if they did not want to keep you for the rest of their lives. You will be their child, my grandchild, and we will see to it that you never want for love."

Harry's eyes had remained locked onto the vision of Aragorn and Arwen standing side-by-side, smiling at him, as Elrond spoke. Now, they came forward and together pulled Harry into a hug, affirming what Elrond had just said. Harry couldn't help it, tears began to leak from his eyes, spilling down his cheeks. Understandingly the three adults allowed Harry to have his cry before drying his eyes and leading him to the hall where the ceremony would take place. If they had thought it would help ease his fears, they would have waited to perform the ceremony, but they rightly deduced that waiting would make Harry feel as if he truly was unwanted. The sooner the ceremony was performed, the sooner Harry would feel the unbreakable bond between them, would feel the love they couldn't help but feel for him even after such a short time.

* * *

Posted On: May 29, 2006


	8. Lle Vesta

"_Rain, rain, go away, go away so that with fire I can play…"_

Please excuse any butchering of Elvish.I pulled bits and pieces of it from various sites to get what I needed.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 7: _Lle_ _Vesta?_

A little over two years had passed since Harry had come to Middle-earth, two years passing since the day he ceased to exist as Harry Potter and became Eldarion Calarrna de Telcontar, son of Aragorn and Arwen. In those years, Eldarion had changed greatly from the near-broken child that had once worn a mask because he was a carbon-copy of his brother. Some of the changes were physical such as his hair becoming more of a dark brunette color like Aragorn's instead of the messy black that was hereditary in the Potter line, his ears pointing slightly to show the heritage he had gained from Arwen despite the fact that she had chosen a mortal life, and his slender frame no longer made you think of a starved waif, but rather of supple grace and beauty; though much of that could actually be put down to proper food and good exercise since even as Harry, Eldarion had possessed a grace all of his own. Yet despite these minor changes, his eyes had remained the same startling green that would put emeralds to shame. The biggest changes that had occurred in Eldarion since the adoption had not really been physical, but mental and emotional as he slowly gained confidence in himself and trust in those around him, putting the trials of Harry Potter in the past where they belonged and facing the future as Aragorn had wisely taught him to.

The major change had come when Eldarion had truly accepted that he had the right to be happy, that he deserved to enjoy having fun and wouldn't be reprimanded for it—except for the occasions involving the pranks the twins had gotten him keen on. Yet today there was something utterly melancholy about Eldarion, as if he had woken up to discover that the past two years had only been a dream of his yearning imagination and he had found himself still in Azkaban imprisoned by the mask. Today was the day that his _daer-adar_ and Gandalf were leaving for Valinor with Galadriel and Celeborn. He would miss them all greatly, for not only were there so many things he still had to learn from them, but they had always been there for him. _Daer-adar_ had trained him in plants and healing, teaching him how to heal minor wounds and encourage the body to speed recovery; he had also been a comforting lap to sit in whenever Eldarion just wanted to be held and didn't feel like going to his parents. Lady Galadriel had shown him how to shield his mind and read the surface thoughts of others when she had discovered he had a talent for mind-speech, and Lord Celeborn had always been there to just walk silently alongside him beneath the trees of Lothlorien when Eldarion felt the need for quiet company.

Gandalf, on the other hand, played a bit odder role in Eldarion's life. The restlessly roaming wizard had stopped in for a visit and did his usual entertaining with magical tricks and fireworks for the children. Nothing was out of place or even out of the ordinary until Gandalf's tricks started to repeat themselves, but without control. The only problem was, it wasn't Gandalf who was causing this—it was Eldarion. Eldarion had expected to be punished or put down in some way for using magic, after all, Dumbledore had always done so anytime he had used magic accidentally when he had lived in Hogwarts. Instead, Gandalf had fallen into thoughtful silence and puffed away on his pipe for a good little while before announcing that despite not being an Istari sent by the Valar, Eldarion could somehow copy magic once he had seen it used. The next few months had been extremely trying for Eldarion as he struggled to learn to control the magical happenings—Gandalf was an extremely kind and easy-going wizard most of the time, but seemed to have little patience with actual teaching when he wasn't at all sure how to go about teaching what needed to be taught.

Thankfully his father, mother, Elrohir, Elladan, and Legolas would be staying in Middle-Earth. The twins were always trying to get him into trouble or teach him some new trick, Legolas loved to take him into the woods and teach him how to track and use a bow, and his father was always making sure he had fun even when they were having sword-practice or he was teaching Eldarion how to be a good leader. Aragorn had even gotten Arwen to join them in their sword lessons and she was teaching him how to swing an Elvish sword like her Hadhafang, _daer-adar_ had found the sword his mother herself had learned with, while father taught him with a more Gondorian style sword. Eldarion's favorite times though were when Aragorn would sneak him away and they would go camping for a few days; Arwen would always frown at Aragorn when they returned, but Eldarion had seen her frown turn to a smile the moment she thought they weren't watching her any more. It saddened him to know that one day his mother would die and leave both him and father as some weakness continued to drain her life, it was hard to believe that the fierce woman who had finally given in to teaching him to fight and wielded her sword with skilled determination was the same as the one whose hand sometimes felt so cold and fragile in his own warm ones.

"What makes you frown so my Eldarion, _iondamin_?" Arwen had approached him softly where he sat with his back against the White Tree. _(my son)_

"_Mankoi, Naneth_?" He asked miserably, "why do they have to leave?" _(why, mother)_

"_Ta naa lú,"_ Arwen replied sadly. _(It is time.)_

"But I will miss them," Eldarion allowed his mother's arms to come about him, realizing she needed the hug just as much as he did, "especially _daer-adar_."

"It warms my heart to hear you say that, _tithen-min_," Elrond immediately found his arms full of the young half-elfling, "I will miss you as well, but we shall meet again and I shall always be with you when you need me even though I now sail for Valinor."

Eldarion allowed Elrond to gently wipe the tears that had pooled in his eyes but refused to fall, "_lle_ _vesta?"_ _(Do you promise?)_

"_Ceriamin,"_ Elrond placed a fatherly kiss upon Eldarion's forehead, "_Amin_ _mela lle, tithen-min." (I do, I love you, little one.)_

"_Amin_ _mela lle, daer-adar,"_ Eldarion responded in kind before giving a sad smile, "I should probably come to the boat to wish Galadriel, Celeborn, and Gandalf _namaarie __ar_' _vanya sulie_ as well." _(I love you, grandfather. Farewell and fair winds.)_

Elrond smiled, "they would be upset if you did not and I imagine Galadriel would let you know her displeasure until she was too far away to do so any longer."

Eldarion actually shuddered, a major drawback of being gifted with a natural mind-talent was that he and Galadriel could communicate over long distances, and if she mentally wanted to vent her displeasure with him he had to suffer it until she calmed down or moved too far away to easily maintain the connection. He could shut out the minds of anyone else with ease, but Galadriel was another matter completely; if she didn't want to be shut out then there was nothing to be done about it. He had learned all this the hard way after he had pulled a prank on her that had left her beautiful hair a bright red color for a few days; his headache had lasted a bit longer and he had gotten revenge on the twins for giving him the idea in the first place.

"We should hurry then," Arwen allowed Eldarion to take her arm to escort her, "or the tides will turn and the ship will be ready to sail before we have properly said _namaarie_." _(Farewell)_

Together the trio made their way to where the ship waited to carry Elrond away to Valinor in time to hear Frodo break the news to his friends that he would be sailing to the Undying Lands as well. None of the Hobbits appeared very happy at this news, Sam least of all, and Eldarion knew how they felt. If there was any way he could keep his _daer-adar_ from sailing to Valinor—but Eldarion knew he had no right to ask Elrond to give up his dreams of Valinor no matter how badly he would miss him, so he stood proud and tall as any young prince should and said his farewells without once letting the tears fall from his eyes. He would cry later when there was no one to see, would cry when he had the solitude and safety of the forest wrapped around him like a protective cloak, because the moment he had taken Arwen's arm in his own earlier he realized that with Elrond's departure that his _Naneth_ would not live past a handful or so years more.

… … … … …

"_Amin_ _nowe utu lle sinome_," Eldarion looked down out from the tree branch he had curled up in to see Legolas standing there. _(I thought to find you here.)_

Eldarion smiled slightly at the elf, "_ere'lle_ _oio soor amin sinome_." _(Only you ever follow me here.)_

Legolas laughed, "because I am the only one to ever find you. I shall have to tease Aragorn unmercifully about being unable to track his own son."­

Eldarion dropped to the ground and pointed out, "you didn't exactly track me either, like the other times you just _knew_. It's why I stopped changing hiding places, it got pointless when I realized you could find me everytime."

"Are you doubting my tracking skills?" Legolas moved smoothly towards Eldarion, noting how the boy anticipated his moves and counter-acted as he had been taught to.

"_Uma, Dolle_ _naa lost_!" Eldarion teased in elvish, his cheer slightly returned now that he had been given some time to make peace with the disturbing realization he had been gifted of earlier. _(yes, your head is empty.)_

"_Antolle_ _ulua sulrim_," Legolas countered right back as he playfully attacked Eldarion, missing the boy the first time, but catching him the second to tickle him unmercifully. _(much wind pours from your mouth.)_

For a long while the two tussled and ran through the forest until they finally exhausted themselves and flopped gracefully to the ground to lay in a dancing patch of sunlight beneath the trees.

"_Kelamin_ _il, Legolas,_" Eldarion spoke suddenly, his voice drowsy from the warmth of the sun he lay in. _(leave me not, Legolas)_

"_Amin nauva il kel lle, Eldarion,"_ Legolas replied, propping himself up on one elbow to look down into the young boys face. _(I will not leave you, Eldarion.)_

"_Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar,"_ Legolas added to himself silently, not wanting to say the words aloud and frighten Eldarion away with their intensity. _(I will follow you to death and beyond.)_

* * *

_Posted On: June 23, 2006_


	9. Hogwarts

_Excuse any mistakes in this chapter, I ended up changing the overall POV in the chapter from first to third and don't know if I managed to catch everything that needed to be fixed._

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 8: _Hogwarts_

_**1991-1992 school year**_

For once Severus was watching a Sorting with unexpected interest, enjoying how his sneer made the already nervous first years quiver. This was the year that Harlan Potter started Hogwarts, which meant that the twin he had seen all those years ago should be showing up as well. Yet looking at the frightened faces of the first years standing and waiting to be Sorted, Severus was unable to spot the child he knew had to have been Harry Potter. All those years ago he had tried to find out more about Harry, but had come up with nothing. There were times that Severus began to think that he had imagined the child and that the child didn't really exist, had really died as everyone thought. Quite a few times he had come so close to mentioning his tumulus thoughts to Albus, but something, some intangible force, had prevented Severus from doing so and he had realized that it was probably for the best. Nothing went on in Hogwarts that Albus didn't seem to know about, and therefore Albus had to have been involved. Albus had let everyone think Harry Potter was dead. Now, in what would have been the first day of Harry's first year, Severus had watched out avidly for Lily's second child only to be disappointed once again. Where in Merlin's name was Harry? Severus _knew_ he hadn't imagined the child despite his sometimes depressing thoughts to the contrary. Had he? Harlan Potter's name was called, and Severus' sneer widened as the child was predictably sorted into Gryffindor, but his hope of spotting Harry was immediately dashed a moment later when the name of Potter wasn't called a second time. It couldn't have been a dream, Severus swore to himself, he had felt the warm flesh of the child beneath his hand; something felt wrong about this whole thing.

… … … … …

Voldemort had gotten the Sorcerer's Stone, Severus had known the instant it had happened because his Dark Mark had begun to tingle. Voldemort was one step closer to his goal of immortality; he only needed a true body of his own. Severus knew that the day that happened that his Mark would burn, burn as if acid were eating away at his arm. Running on Albus' heels to the chamber where the stone had been hidden, Severus wondered where Albus' plans had gone wrong. Voldemort never should have been able to get the stone from the mirror, only someone who had no desire to use the stone but to protect it could have retrieved it from its hiding place. Severus stopped short a few steps into the chamber and realized what had gone wrong. On the floor lay an unconscious Harlan Potter. Of course the boy would have been able to get the stone from the mirror, foolish and naïve Gryffindor that he was. If not for Harlan the stone would have been still safely ensconced in the Mirror of Erised and Voldemort would not be on his way to a second rise of power. What had happened that a child who had been able to defeat Voldemort as an infant could not defeat him as a wand-wielding child who had been given the benefit of private lessons from Headmaster Albus Dumbledore?

* * *

_**1992-1993 school year**_

Once again Voldemort had slipped right under Albus' nose, sneaking a diary with a piece of his soul embodied within it into Hogwarts. Ginevra Weasley had been the unwitting victim, Voldemort stealing her life force from her as he forced her into his service while he attempted to instill fear into the population of Hogwarts and regain his own body. It had only been by sheer luck that Severus and Albus had arrived when they did, the youngest Weasley boy somehow making it out of the chamber to warn them. By the time they had arrived in the Chamber of Secrets, Harlan had been near dead from the basilisk poison, Fawkes busily circling the blind serpent in an attempt to draw it away from the downed boy-who-lived. Albus had instantly gone to protect his precious boy-who-lived and that night Severus had done something foolishly Gryffindor. He had picked up a sword that Harlan had apparently pulled from the Sorting Hat and shoved it up through the roof of the basilisk's mouth, thankfully the fang that would have pierced through his arm from this action was already stuck in Harlan; the boy-who-lived had obviously tried the same stunt already, but failed.

Then, while the basilisk thrashed in agony, Severus did the one thing he had sworn never to do again and channeled the killing curse through the sword. Instantly he felt dirty, unclean and tainted, but the basilisk was dead and Voldemort had lost his chance at regaining his body back when Harlan drove the basilisk fang through the diary. The biggest consolation Severus got for his work that evening was that he would be able to make all sorts of rare potions with the harvest he would get from the basilisk. He sure as hell hadn't gained any more faith in Harlan Potter, though he knew Albus would word the whole incident so that Harlan appeared to have once again saved their lives. It galled him that his accomplishment that evening would never be recognized, but he also knew that saying anything would put him at odds with Albus and that was one place he didn't want to be; the man could destroy him quite easily if he wished.

* * *

_**1993-1994 school year**_

Harlan Potter had gotten even more arrogant, if that was even possible, and Severus had come to think that the boy actually believed the half-truths that Albus spun to be the whole story. Perhaps if that damn boy hadn't inherited the Potter luck and arrogant superiority, traits Albus seemed to be purposely cultivating, things would be turning out better. Death Eater attacks had started up that summer as Voldemort grew restless and frustrated with his unlucky streak in regaining a body. The Dark Lord had actually dared send Death Eaters to attack Harlan in the middle of Diagon Alley and the Potter boy had shown that he actually had some knowledge of dueling at least. Now his name was being praised in the Prophet for his quick thinking and defense of the innocent witches and wizards who had been shopping that day. No one paid any attention to the fact that the Death Eaters who had attacked Potter were merely new and unskilled recruits, that they were nothing compared to what Potter would face should he come face-to-face with a member of the Inner Circle. The brat didn't even get a slap on the wrist for flouting the rules of underage magic. Severus himself haven't been summoned yet, but knew he would be soon, he just knew it. Severus had once been, and still was, a member of Voldemort's Inner Circle. He was his trusted Potions Master and the only reason Severus had not been summoned yet is that Voldemort never sent him on raids, preferring to have him safely ensconced in a lab where Severus could brew the delicate potions that were needed. Soon the Dark Lord would think of using a potion to regain his body or would think of some use for Severus and he would be summoned. Severus would have no choice but to go then and he _would_ brew whatever potion the Dark Lord asked of him. It would cost him his life to do otherwise.

* * *

**_1994-1995 school year_**

Severus had done it. He had made the potion that Voldemort needed to complete the ritual to regain him a body. It is an act that gave him both pride and shame. Yet without Harlan Potter, the potion would have been useless and Cedric Diggory would still be alive. It's still surprising that Harlan made it to the third task of the Triwizard tournament given that the competitors all had the advantage over him in both age and knowledge, but he had made it. Unfortunately for him, Diggory beat Harlan to the cup that had been turned into a portkey in order to take Potter to Voldemort. Diggory had died and Voldemort's loyal follower who was disguised as this year's defense teacher, Mad-Eye Moody, kidnapped Potter from the maze and took him to Voldemort anyhow. Severus couldn't help but wonder if it had been the Mad-Eye imposter or Albus who had been the one to ensure that Harlan's name came out of the Goblet of Fire; the imposter had admitted to submitting Potter's name, but Albus _had_ been the one to put up the safeguards around the Goblet. Either way, Harlan's blood was used to help Voldemort regain his body, but something else extraordinary also happened that night. Voldemort told Harlan that he was not the child to defeat him all those years ago, but his twin brother Harry. Voldemort hadn't bothered with Harlan after that, dismissing him as unimportant while the child who was known as the boy-who-lived lay in shock knowing that his life had been a lie. Severus couldn't help but wonder how on Earth Albus would salvage this mess.

* * *

_**1995-1996 school year**_

Albus had done it again. Somehow even after Harlan should have lost trust in his mentor and confronted the old man with his lies, Albus managed to regain the boys cooperation and make him believe that Voldemort had been the one spouting lies. It had been easy to convince the boy of that though, considering that he was the one alive while his twin was dead. Something in Albus' eyes had shifted when he had said that though, and Severus found himself remembering those beautiful green eyes shining up at him in the darkened Hogwarts corridor. He had given up the search after Potter's first year, but now Severus wondered if that had really been such a wise decision. If Harry was really alive, which he suspected and Albus perhaps knew, then Voldemort was right in his dismissal of Harlan's worth. Was Albus playing some sort of game here by using one twin as a decoy for another? But if he was why wouldn't he have told some of the staff about Harry being alive so we could teach the boy? Or was there some deeper game going on here? The puzzle filled Severus' head and started a throbbing behind his eyes; he would never be able to guess what Albus was doing, not without some more information and information was proving to be very scarce these days. As it was, Albus seems determined to continue with Harlan's training and reaffirming to the world that the Potter heir is the true Prophecy Child. He was even going so far as to release a part of a prophecy to the Daily Prophet and having an article done on Harlan Potter's deeds over the past few years containing all that he's suffered in his life. Severus would have liked to believe in Albus' assurances, and perhaps he could have, if only he could get the sight of those innocent emerald eyes out of his head.

But now was not the time to be thinking about this, for Voldemort was summoning him. The Dark Lord was going to ask how the creatures are progressing inside their slimy wombs, the creatures he had given Severus the instructions to make. Severus could not disobey this creation despite the fact that these creatures were the very spawn of destruction. If Severus thought his death would have put an end to their creation, then he would have died, but as it was, his only hope was to breed within them some form of weakness even as he curse the existence of the ancient Grimoire that Voldemort must have pulled from the very deepest pits of Hell. Severus sometimes wondered about the heroes who must have defeated the writer of the Grimoire and his Master, and he hated the fact that their hero was so pathetic at his job. Why could their hero not be one of the ones that the writer occasionally cursed through his writing? Severus feared that with this Grimoire in hand that Voldemort would be worse than Saruman and Sauron, two evils whose names weren't even remembered on any of the four corners of the Earth today except for by those who had seen the Grimoire. The creatures will be ready soon.

… … … … …

_Albus Dumbledore's POV…_

I begin to think that I made a mistake when I choose Harlan over Harry. No, that wasn't the mistake, it was underestimating the twin bond between Harlan and Harry; their bond must have run deeper between them than anticipated and that's why Harlan isn't as capable as he should be. The biggest mistake I made was throwing Harry away as a useless pawn; he was a piece that might have proved useful, but not anymore. I had always planned to keep him tucked away, ready to be used when I finally found some menial task for him to perform, or found some use for him as a sacrifice, but I am to be denied even that. I curse the damn brat for dying on me. It was a shock when the stone I was using to monitor his life-force suddenly cracked and went dormant. Perhaps I should have checked on him once in a while, played the grandfather to him and told him that staying in Azkaban was for his own safety. He would have believed me after a while or I would have simply obliviated him and remolded him; I would have been the only hope he had. I have no choice now but to keep working with Harlan and hoping that not all my plans need to be revised. Perhaps it is time that I also begin showing Neville Longbottom some attention, he was a candidate for the Prophecy Child at one point as well. Yes, that is what I shall do. Everything will turn out alright. It can't afford not to. I can't afford to have it not turn out alright. Damn you, Harry Potter, for screwing up all my plans and dying on me. You're no use to me dead.

* * *

_**Spring 1996**_

_Sirius Blacks' POV…_

I can't stop shaking, and for once it is not because of the dementors. I have gotten a hold of the copy of the Daily Prophet the Minister was carrying with him when he made his inspection of Azkaban. I told him I missed the crosswords, but in reality it was the front page that caught my attention. Harlan was on it. My godson. Yet I have two godsons, the second being Harry. It was from this paper, the article rehashing the events of Harlan's life, that I realized that Dumbledore had a lot more to account for than my wrongful imprisonment in Azkaban. He knew that I hadn't been Lily and James' Secret Keeper, had cast the spell himself that made Peter the Keeper, but he had never said a thing when they threw me in here without a trial. But I have come to terms with all that, what I cannot accept was the article mentioning how Harlan was suffering through life without the support of his twin bond, little Harry having been murdered that October 31st night by Voldemort. Harry had not died that night. I know because I had seen him lying there, unconscious but alive and healthy amidst the ruins of Godric's Hallow. I had gone to him, tended to him, but then Peter had made his appearance. No, not Peter, he is Pettigrew or Wormtail now. Fitting name, Wormtail. I shouldn't have went after the traitor, but at the time I didn't know how conniving Dumbledore really was and so had felt it safe enough to follow Wormtail when I felt Dumbledore apparate through the tattered remnants of the wards a moment later. No, Harry was still alive, but Dumbledore had done something to him. I have a reason now, a motivation; I will break out of Azkaban, and I think I know just the way to do it. Perhaps the lack of food here in Azkaban will finally turn out to be a good thing.

* * *

Posted On: July 16, 2006


	10. To Come Home

**Clarification**: Harry is indeed in a different dimension/world, but just as he managed to travel to Middle-Earth other things from Middle-Earth have found their way to Earth. Sauron and Saruman have not actually been to Earth, but a Grimoire that Saruman kept managed to traverse the dimensions and ended up in Voldemort's possession; that is how Severus knew of Saruman and Sauron.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 9: _To Come Home_

Early spring had come begun to bloom in Gondor, light breezes and scattered rains keeping the heat from getting too oppressive like it did in summer, and the people went about their daily business. To Eldarion it was a sight for sore eyes because the twenty-three year old prince had been gone from home for just over a year, riding with the Rangers and visiting with the scattered number of Elves who had decided to remain upon the shores of Middle-Earth. He had loved the journey despite some of the hardships he had faced on it and reveled in the time spent away from the cloistering walls of the Gondorian Palace, but he had also missed his family. The one thing that had kept his homesickness from getting too bad though had been the presence of Legolas by his side throughout the entire trip. They had tentatively started exploring a relationship before they had left Gondor for the year and the trip had given them the chance to explore this and encouraged their feelings for each other into a more solid bond. Yet despite the year of travel where they had spent many a night camped out alone under the stars, Legolas and Eldarion had gone little further than kissing in the physical aspect of their relationship.

"_Nae_ _saian luume'"_ Eldarion whispered as they turned their horses onto the last road that would lead to the palace. _(It has been too long.)_

"_Creoso eska,"_ Legolas murmured in reply, as he leaned over to place a discreet kiss on Eldarion's temple. _(Welcome home.)_

With a smile Eldarion shifted in his saddle to say something to Legolas only to be cut off by two blurs flying towards his horse.

"Eldarion! Eldarion! You are home!"

Only years of practice allowed Eldarion to keep Fëa from stamping at the two children trying to clamber up his sides. With an amused shake of his head, Eldarion slid from Fëa's back and pulled the two children away from the horse, Legolas snickering almost inaudibly in the background.

"Calanon, Vanya," Eldarion hugged the twin boy and girl to him, "_Cormamin_ _lindua ele lle." (My heart sings to see thee.)_

"What does that mean?"

Both seven-year-olds were always curious whenever he spoke to them in Elvish, but he wasn't given the chance to answer as Calanon kept speaking, "father said you were coming home today and we waited forever for you. You took too long."

"I am sorry," Eldarion switched to Westron for the benefit of the twins, "but the horses can only go so fast. I'm home now though."

Vanya started tugging at his hand, her eyes shining, "come play with us, you promised before you went that you would play when you got home."

"We will play," Eldarion hugged them both again, "but first I need to take care of Fëa. Why don't you go tell _adar_ that I am home?"

In an instant the two were off like a shot, though Eldarion knew that they would be back the moment after they delivered the message. It had been a complete surprise when _Naneth_ had become pregnant when he was fifteen; she herself had never suspected that it would be possible as her body had continued to weaken into mortality. Eldarion had known then that this was what the vision he had received the day _daer-adar_ had left referred to. If Arwen went ahead with the pregnancy she would die, and she had known it as well; if she hadn't become pregnant she would have lived for hundreds of years more. There had been no choice in Arwen's eyes though. She had lived long enough after the birth to name both her son and daughter and whisper final words of love to her husband and Eldarion. It had been a time of great sorrow for them all and Eldarion had fallen into the fear that Aragorn would no longer love him as much now that he had a son that was of both his flesh and blood.

_Flashback_

_Naneth's_ _belly had been ripe to burst for months now and the time had come. For many it was a joyous occasion, but for Eldarion all he could feel was sorrow. He knew that by the end of this birthing that he would no longer have his Naneth at his side, and she knew it as well. His second reason for sorrow was also filled with fear. Adar would now have a child that was made of both his flesh and blood and Eldarion knew that would mean that he was no longer wanted. Why would Aragorn want a child that was merely his by adoption, albeit one of blood, when he had a child born from himself and Arwen? The first squall of an infant cut through the air and Eldarion could stand it no longer, he ran from where he had been huddling out in the shadows of the hall, ran until he found himself collapsing at the roots of the White Tree. It was fitting that he should end up here, here in this place where he had first seen his Adar, here where he would now lose him. Eldarion felt his heart clench in pain, but refused to let the tears fall. He wouldn't allow himself to cry until after he was told that he was no longer wanted and had gotten far away from Gondor. He would live amongst the trees, live there where no humans dwelt and no pain could befall him. He…_

"_Eldarion."_ _It was Adar._

"_Quickly now," there was pain in Adar's eyes, "Arwen is calling for you, she will not last long."_

_Brushing aside the feelings churning within him, Eldarion had went to Arwen's side and cried as she told him that she loved him and that he was her son. Her tithen-min. Then she had gone still and it seemed as if she was merely sleeping, but the last tenaciously clinging bit of Light of the Eldar had left her and Eldarion knew her to be dead._

_Sorrowfully he had stood, not realizing that he was crying, "I'll go now."_

"_What?" In his grief Aragorn did not seem to comprehend, the Ranger-king crying freely as well from where he stood gazing upon his lost wife._

"_I'll go," Eldarion gestured to the tiny twins wailing in the cradle over the sensation of their mother's passing, "you don't need me anymore."_

_For a long moment Aragorn didn't move, but as Eldarion turned to leave the room he suddenly found himself clasped tightly against that strong chest, those warrior's arms banding tight around him and not letting go._

"_Amin utinu," Aragorn had said the words fiercely, shaking him, "Kelamin_ _il! You are my son Eldarion! My first son. I will not let you go. Do not make me lose a son as well as a wife this day!" (My son, leave me not!)_

_End Flashback_

Eldarion had quickly been disabused of any notion that he was no longer wanted or needed and had been surprised to discover that _adar_ still named him heir to Gondor; it wasn't something he had been expecting even after learning Aragorn still called him son. Once he had realized that he would not be losing another home, would not be hurt or betrayed over the arrival of the new twins, Eldarion had quickly taken to being a big brother. It had just come naturally to him as if he had done it his whole life and the twins had worshipped him, following him everywhere they could as soon as they were old enough to toddle about. Gimli had once referred to the twins as Eldarion's puppies.

"They have grown," Legolas had come to stand beside him.

"Yes," Eldarion slipped easily into the circle of Legolas' arm, "it's hard to believe that they are seven already, that _Naneth_…"

"_Amin sinta, melamin,"_ Legolas switched back to Elvish for a moment, knowing it would comfort Eldarion, "I'm surprised you don't have those two fluent in Sindarin or even Quenya yet." _(I know, my love.)_

Eldarion shook his head sadly, "few Elves come here except for you, and with _Naneth_ gone there just doesn't seem much point. Even _Adar_ doesn't use Sindarin as much unless it's to speak with me because he knows I favor it over Westron. Losing _Naneth_ hit him hard."

"Their souls were mated," Legolas commented softly as they began to walk toward the front doors of the palace, "and Aragorn always thought that he would be the one to die first. We are just lucky he did not follow her into repose."

Eldarion would have commented, but his eyes fell upon the upright figure standing proud in the doorway, waiting for him. Even though he was over 100 years old, Aragorn was still fit and strong thanks to the longevity of the Dúnedain. His steps quickening, Eldarion moved towards his father and the two embraced heartily like the warriors they were.

"_Vedui' Adar,"_ Eldarion pulled back from the hug, but still clasped his father's forearm. _(Greetings father.)_

"_Mae govannen, amin utinu," _the Elvish words still flowed easily from Aragorn's lips. _(well met, my son.)_

The two looked each other over for long moments, communicating without words and checking to see that the other was well before breaking apart. Aragorn turned to Legolas to greet his old friend, while the twins set upon Eldarion again.

"Let's go play now," Vanya demanded at the same time Calanon asked, "did you bring us anything back?"

With a laugh, Eldarion allowed the twins to drag him along as he pulled the gifts he had for them out of his bag, knowing that Legolas and _Adar_ would enjoy the chance to catch up for a bit in peace. Unfortunately the family reunion wasn't to last long, for only a few days after Eldarion's homecoming, two separate messengers arrived at the Gondorian Palace. One was from Mirkwood summoning Prince Legolas home, and the other was a missive from Rohan.

* * *

Posted On: August 4, 2006


	11. A Sign Unwelcome

RL sucks really badly right now, but I will try to keep writing and posting. No clue which story will get my attention next.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 10: _A Sign Unwelcome_

"_Auta!"_ Eldarion spurred Fëa on with a glad cry, enjoying the crisp fall air that filled his lungs, "come Faramir! Éomer! Your horses lag greatly!" _(Go!)_

"They would not lag," Éomer called back, responding as if he had been insulted because his horse wasn't as fast as Eldarion's, "if all of us were blessed enough to ride one of the Mearas."

"Jealous Éomer?" Faramir teased his brother-in-law, "it's not as if you haven't ridden that devil horse before."

Éomer made a rude gesture at Faramir as the two companions began to bicker good-naturedly. Eldarion smiled, but didn't slow down to join in the 'discussion' as he was eager to get home. For the past four months or so he had been in Rohan leading a group of Gondorian soldiers to the aid of the Rohirrim against the Wild Men who had beset the Plains of the Horse Lords. At first they had believed that it would be an easy rout, the Gondorian soldiers going more as a sign of allied friends than as an actual show of force, but the Wild Men had proven to have become smarter over the years and had taken to digging shallow ditches in the ground where they would hide and hamstring or strike the forelocks of passing horses to throw the rider and make them vulnerable.

Eldarion had quickly found himself as the head strategist in the following battles once it became apparent that mounted soldiers were a liability. It had been daunting to know that lives suddenly rested on his decisions, Éomer and Faramir content to provide advice but letting him lead. Eldarion soon learned to rely on his instincts, heed what advice was given to him even if he didn't act upon it, and to stop second guessing himself; he had led small skirmished against groups of Orcs and Uruk-hai before, but never anything of this magnitude. What could have broken him instead made him as strong leader that the people quickly grew to respect. Eldarion had once scowled at Éomer and asked him why he wasn't the one leading _his_ people into _his_ battles.

Éomer had merely looked him over and stated, "you are Eldarion Calarrna, son of Aragorn. By your lineage alone you have the trust of the Rohirrim. You also have inherited your father's diverse ability of nature, head for strategy, and luck in battle. Why shouldn't you lead?"

Eldarion had given Éomer a rude Dwarven gesture he had learned from Gimli, added an Uruk curse for good measure, and went back to planning the next rout. Éomer had merely laughed and told Eldarion that he had been spending too much time underground with the Dwarves and had better watch that he did not begin to find the bearded countenances of Dwarf women appealing. Eldarion had gotten the last laugh by telling Éomer that he was to ride Fëa into battle as a diversion; Fëa didn't like anyone to ride him but Eldarion and Éomer hadn't managed to remain mounted for more than a few seconds before being thrown. Eldarion had spent the rest of his time in Rohan fighting the Wild Men and enjoying the fruits of his labor as a spate of pranks worthy of Elladan and Elrohir beset those sheltering in the Golden Hall of Meduseld. It served to lighten the atmosphere considerably and annoy Éomer in the process.

The final skirmish against the Wild Men had been just about three weeks ago and while everything in Eldarion had yearned to ride home with all haste, he had stayed and attended to his duties and the wounded. The last of the wounded had been able to ride two weeks ago, thankfully no wounds had been serious after they had discovered the tactics being used by their adversaries, and Eldarion had sent the last group of his men back to Gondor. He would have ridden with them, but Éomer had wanted to ride to Gondor as well to visit with his sister, Eowyn, who was now getting heavy with Faramir's child and cursing the fact that she wasn't allowed to ride anymore until after the birth. Eldarion had offered to wait in Rohan for the few extra days it would take before Éomer could safely depart his people and Faramir had stayed behind as well, knowing that Eowyn would be greatly displeased if he did not personally ride with his brother-in-law. This was now their tenth day on the road and home was finally in sight, Eldarion estimating that they were probably only a day or so behind the last of his men given the slower pace the larger group would have traveled at. The moment the gates of Minas Tirith came into sight Eldarion fully gave Fëa his head, knowing that Éomer and Faramir would forgive him for leaving them behind.

Passing through the gates, Eldarion expertly navigated Fëa up through the tiers that made up Minas Tirith, waving to the people he passed though he didn't stop. His family was waiting for him, and hopefully Legolas would have returned from his visit to Mirkwood as well. It had been around four months since he had just had the chance to stay home and spend time with Adar, Calanon, and Vanya, and then that had just been the brief time he had after he had just gotten back from being away for a whole year.

Finally reaching the stable, Eldarion reluctantly dismissed the groom who had come to assist him and began to brush Fëa down himself. He probably could have let the groom care for Fëa since the spirited stallion had calmed after the long run, but Aragorn had always taught him to care for his own horse and gear whenever possible. Getting Fëa set to be stabled took a good fifteen to twenty minutes, but by the time Eldarion did turn Fëa over to the groom he was glad he had taken the time to brush Fëa down himself; the Mearas looked very content and happy. Grinning himself, Eldarion waved to Faramir and Éomer as he passed them, still bickering, on their way to the stable he had just vacated. Laughing at the two, Eldarion continued on into the courtyard, waving to the people he passed and resisting the urge to break into an undignified run. Then, halfway through the courtyard, Eldarion abruptly stopped and stared. The White Tree was drooping. It wasn't very noticeable yet, more of a dimming of the radiance and life force that surrounded the tree, but a flash of memory had briefly super-imposed itself over the tree in front of him. The image was that of a withered and seemingly dead tree, struggling for existence in a dark and barren courtyard surrounded by high walls. Right on the heels of this memory came a vision that nearly made Eldarion stagger. Fear chilled through to the pit of Eldarion's stomach and he felt sick from what he had just envisioned.

"No," the soft moan escaped his lips as he realized what this vision had to mean, "please, by the Valar, no!"

Almost desperately Eldarion started to reach for the tree only to snatch his hand back quickly; he didn't dare touch the slowly dying tree, afraid of what might happen. Slowly Eldarion took a step away from the tree before moving quickly around it towards the castle. He had to find his father quickly. Thankfully, Aragorn had been waiting for the return of his son since the last of the soldiers had come home and Eldarion didn't have far to look.

"_Mani naa ta?"_ Aragorn clasped Eldarion's arm in his own to hold the boy to him, seeing how shaken he was, "_mani naa raika iondamin?"_ _(What is it? What is wrong my son?)_

"_Tel'orn, Adar,"_ Eldarions' voice trembled, but only to those who knew him well, "_ta naa quella."_ _(The Tree, father, it is fading.)_

"I have seen," Aragorn admitted in Westron, "but I am not quite sure what yet it means."

Eldarion's body shook slightly, "it means I have to go back. The Tree brought me here and now it's telling me I have to go back."

"_N'uma!"_ Aragorn's voice was fiercely possessive and Eldarion found his face pressed into his father's chest, calming slightly as he inhaled his father's familiar scent, "no! You are _amin_ _utinu_ now, you belong here. They do not deserve you, not after what they did to you." _(No! my son)_

"I do not want to go either," Eldarion's voice was muffled, the shaking having returned at the mention of his past, "but—but I fear what will happen if I do not!"

Aragorn recognized some note in Eldarion's voice and pulled back slightly to see his son's face, "what have you seen?"

Eldarion took a deep breath and let it out. It wasn't often that he saw visions, but he had gained a touch of Arwen's slight ability when she had claimed him as her child. Although he often got precise hunches he could go for years without seeing anything, but when he did receive a vision it proved to be mostly accurate unless preventative measures were taken.

"Destruction." Eldarion's voice was soft, "not only of this world, but of my first one and the others beyond. The White Tree connects them all and my passage between the worlds has opened the way for the spread of this destruction. If Earth falls, Middle-Earth will slowly be pulled into the darkness after it along with all the worlds connected by the White Tree. Valinor is one of these worlds."

"But why you!" Aragorn demanded, "why you, after what you've already suffered?"

"Because of this," Eldarion traced the faded scar upon his forehead, sudden knowledge weighing heavily upon him, "because I was marked as chosen. Like you, like Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship when you fought Sauron's evil."

"It's not fair." Those were words Eldarion had never heard from his father's lips before, "for you to be given to me, for you to be given a life of happiness here, only for it to be taken away so you can save the world that once condemned you to suffer."

"But if I do not do this, I condemn our world as well," Eldarion forced the brave words from his mouth.

A sad smile quirked Aragorn's lips. "How can you so nobly accept this fate, _tithen-min_?"

"Because you taught me how."

For a moment Aragorn turned his head slightly away, a tear tracking down his cheek much to Eldarion's distress, "then I will go with you."

"You can't, _Adar_," both knew it to be true, "the people will have no one to turn to if you come. Calanon and Vanya are too young to be left in charge. And if the destruction does come, if I cannot stop it…"

"He is right, Aragorn," Legolas stepped from the shadows he had moved into to give the father and son some privacy when Eldarion had run in, "though it pains me to agree."

"I will not send Eldarion off alone," Aragorn's voice was firm, "not to that world."

"He will not go alone," Legolas kept his voice even, "for I will go with him. I swore years ago to follow Eldarion wherever his path would take him and I will keep that promise. _Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar_. That is what I swore to Eldarion as he slept by my side in that forest glade on the day the last ship set sail." _(I will follow you to death and beyond.)_

"_Diola lle_, Legolas," Aragorn and Eldarion spoke the words together despite the fact that those simple words were unable to convey the true depths of each of their feelings at this declaration, but Legolas understood all the same. _(Thank you)_

"What's this quest I hear about," a gruff voice sounded from the open doorway where three figures now stood, "I do hope you aren't planning to set off without me!"

"I take it we will have to suffer the Dwarf to accompany us?" Legolas spoke to Eldarion, teasing Gimli and smirking as Gimli took the bait and began to get huffy.

Eldarion couldn't help but feel his spirits lift slightly at this teasing; it took a great weight off his shoulders to know that he would not be confronting his past on his own. With a slight smile upon his face, he continued to stand within the comfort of his father's arm, but reached out to slip a free hand into Legolas'. As long as Legolas was with him everything would be alright, he would be able to survive anything that the past threw at him.

Posted On: August 17, 2006


	12. Bonds of the Heart

Sorry this took so long, I really haven't had much time for writing lately.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 11: _Bonds of the Heart_

Eldarion and Legolas had begun to slip away from the confining walls of Minas Tirith as dinner ended to sneak into the forest under the cover of the falling darkness. Most of dinner had been spent discussing Eldarion's journey to 'the Otherland', that was what everyone had taken to calling Earth after some wise-crack of the twins, and Eldarion needed space to breath and think. He also needed to talk with Legolas before they left for Earth, before they placed themselves into an unknown situation there might be no coming out of. And yet of all those gathered that evening in the main hall of Gondor's palace—family, friends, courtiers, dignitaries, advisors, and servants—only Aragorn had spotted the soft-footed couple as Eldarion had tugged on Legolas' hand and they began to steal away.

Eldarion had paused the moment he had felt Aragorn's eyes upon him, knowing his father dearly wanted to spend time with him away from the prying eyes of the Court before the morning came, but Aragorn had nodded at them in permission to leave so that he and Legolas could talk. Watching the two slip out had reminded Aragorn of how on a night very similar to this one, a night full of the uncertainty of the future, he had slipped from the halls of Rivendell with Arwen so that he could speak with her in private. Unfortunately that night he had been forced to deny Arwen his love in the hopes of giving her a better life away from war and grief despite the fact that he had wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and keep her safe forever. Aragorn only hoped that such would not be the outcome of Eldarion and Legolas' talk, that his son would not make the same mistake he did and almost lose his love. He would have lost Arwen too, had she not been so stubborn and determined that she had defied Lord Elrond to remain in Middle-Earth.

… … … … …

No words were spoken as the couple stole like a gentle breeze through the slowly emptying streets of Gondor, their feet picking up a faster pace as cobbled stone gave away to open land and then forest as they headed towards a certain spot by unspoken agreement. Legolas and Eldarion still remained silent even when they finally arrived and stood side-by-side in their secret glade, the sheltering trees swaying softly over their heads as if sighing to see two children of the forest so solemn and melancholy. Only the stream trickling silver in the moonlight carried on in it's familiar tinkle of water over rock, moving on as if nothing was wrong, but then the water would not be in the presence of these two elves for long and so it's awareness of their mood was fleeting and nearly uncaring.

"_Amin_ _khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar."_ Eldarion softly repeated the words Legolas' had spoke earlier as if testing them out on his tongue, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two. "I will follow you to death and beyond. Did you truly pledge such a thing to me, Legolas?"

"I did, _melamin_," Legolas replied simply, not sure what else to say. (_My love._)

"_Mankoi?_" (_Why?_)

"Because it is the truth, Eldarion," Legolas turned to face the younger man, "even then I knew that I would always be with you. That I would always be able to find you no matter where you would go. I knew it from the day I first saw you as the twins took you riding; my breath catching in my throat when I thought Fëa was going to throw you, and then my pride as you regain your seat and managed to control your horse. Our lives were entwined even then and it was torture to know such, yet be unable to say a thing because you were just a child."

"I was afraid when I first realized that you were my one," Eldarion admitted, "I had always felt close to you, but I did not know if you felt the same. You had always been so careful of your emotions around me until these past couple years."

"You possess the truth now," Legolas' eyes revealed nothing as he gazed upon Eldarion, "and you tell me that your feelings are the same. Why then do you give me your love and yet hesitate to allow the bond that stretches between us to grow? Do you not feel it? I do not wish to push the matter, but come tomorrow—"

"It is a soul-bond," Eldarion's words admitted that he felt the bond was there, "it is the same type of bond that _naneth_ and _adar_ had. It is a bond that is for life."

"A bond that I acknowledged and committed to as you slept beside me here in this very glade. A vow that I renew now."

"But I don't want you to!" The words burst from Eldarion in a fit of passionate emotion.

"_Mani_?" Shock and hurt laced Legolas' whispered voice as he lapsed into Elvish.

"You are Elf-kind," Eldarion was miserable for having upset Legolas, "and I—I don't know what I am. It is true that the blood of the _Eldar_ runs strong in me, stronger than had been expected, yet there is also a good chance that I shall live no longer than the normal life-span of the _Dúnedain_ if I am even lucky enough to have inherited any sort of longevity. I cannot ask you to face such a possibility that I might only live a mortal life-span."

"You are not asking, _melamin_," Legolas' hands came up to grip Eldarion's shoulders to keep him from fleeing, "I am offering. I already know that such is a possibility and am prepared to follow you into rest should you be claimed from me. _Amin_ _khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar._ I did not say those words lightly."

"We don't know what will happen come the morning." Eldarion felt he owed it to the both of them not to give in easily, felt he had to give Legolas another chance to back away should his love so choose to when he realized all the uncertainty in the future.

"But we will be together to face it," Legolas knew what Eldarion was doing and wasn't about to let him get away with it, not when they were about to confront the past that had so effected Eldarion's young life, "we will triumph together, or we will fail together, but in the end you will always have me and I shall always have you. _Amin_ _mela lle, Eldarion_." (_I love you, Eldarion._)"

A tender, but sad smile crossed Eldarion's face as he brought a sword-calloused hand up to caress lightly across Legolas' dear face, his wavering eyes searching for something. Then, Eldarion slowly rose up slightly onto his toes so that his lips could meet Legolas' in a short and tender kiss in which their lips only touched softly to linger together for a few precious seconds. It was not passion that either of them was seeking in that moment before Eldarion dropped his head away to rest it against Legolas' chest, their arms circling each other to create a dual haven for them both. The kiss was instead the acceptance of the fully acknowledged soul-bond that would link them together even into death.

"_Amin_ _mela lle, Legolas_," Eldarion murmured softly, eyes closing in contentment as Legolas dropped a tender kiss against his dark head. (_I love you, Legolas._)

… … … … …

The moon rode high overhead when Eldarion and Legolas finally made their reluctant way back into the city of Gondor and up the winding tiers to the palace, their hands clasped discretely together as they exchanged soft smiles with each other when there was no one to see. Both knew that no one would voice offence at their relationship despite the fact that both of them were male, that was not why they took such care, but their final commitment was still too new to both of them for either of them to want to share it with the gossip mongers just then. Besides, it was only right that their family and close friends hear the news first. Eldarion already knew that his father would be waiting up for them to make their reappearance and to discover what had transpired during their disappearance, and Eldarion was proved right as they slipped into the Hall, the low-flickering flames of a fire bathing over Aragorn's hunched silhouette as he puffed contemplatively away on a pipe that had survived with him all through the journey and hardships of the Fellowship.

For a long moment Eldarion stood poised with Legolas just inside the doorway they had entered through as he watched his father. Signs of age were becoming more and more apparent in Aragorn as the years went by, war and hardship having taken its toll, but Eldarion was still able to see the fire of life that burned within his father. Here in this moment he was not seeing Aragorn the King, but Aragorn the Man. This was the man who had taken in an unknown child and breathed new life into his beaten soul. This was the man who remembered the life of a Ranger, a man who loved and protected those around him, this was his father. His _adar_. This was the man who was being asked to do the impossible and allow his son to go to a world where he could not follow. Slumped before the fire was a father who was waiting to speak with a son he knew he might lose forever.

A hard, hot-lump lodged itself within Eldarion's throat as he realized the distress he was placing upon his father. Upon those strong and broad shoulders, shoulders that still remember the swing of a sword and the weight of hard work, rested the welfare of a Kingdom and here he was adding another burden upon his father. For just an instant Eldarion wished he could turn back time and take back that wish to go outside, to take away the burden he was placing upon those strong shoulders that had supported him whenever he had faltered. If he had never come to Middle-Earth perhaps—

Legolas' hand lightly squeezing his own turned Eldarion away from such thoughts and he gazed up into his love's perceptive eyes. Legolas had known the path that his thoughts had traversed and had given him a gentle reminder that he was also the reason for a lot of the happiness that had been in Aragorn's life, he had given Aragorn a purpose beyond that of being a King in a time when the mantle of leadership had been at its heaviest. He had given Aragorn the strength of a father and a need to protect a dependent that went beyond that which his duty called for. If he had not come to Middle-Earth than much that was would not be and the line of Númenor would most likely have been broken when it was now stronger by three. There were times when Eldarion forgot all this, forgot all that he had done and accomplished to the betterment of his people, and remembered that he had once been an unwanted problem sealed away behind a metal mask. These moments had been extremely rare after he had lived with Aragorn and Arwen for a bit, but now with his past rearing up to haunt him, Eldarion was glad he had people around him who cared enough to remind him that he was worth it. Filled with a sudden surge of love and determination, Eldarion started walking towards his father with Legolas at his side. He would face his past and destroy the taint that threatened Middle-Earth, his home, and he would battle through legions of Mordor is that was what it took to make it safely back to his family, especially his _adar._

… … … … …

Aragorn sensed Eldarion's hesitation in the doorway but forced himself to remain sitting in front of the fire despite the fact that he could almost read his son's heavy thoughts and desired nothing more than to go to him and assure him that he was worthy; such moments where Eldarion doubted himself like this were so very rare anymore and hadn't actually occurred in many years. The slightest contraction of Legolas' hand around Eldarion's showed Aragorn the silent support his friend was offering his son, making him happy that the pair had found love in each other. Moments later Aragorn could see in Eldarion's face that his son had found in himself a sense of pride and worth as he started towards him with Legolas at his side, only stopping when they were close enough that they were within arms reach.

"_Adar…_" Eldarion began, but Aragorn held up a hand to halt his son's words as he laid his pipe down by his side.

"_Amin_ _aistallie,"_ Aragorn spoke the words softly, reverently as he laid his sword hand over the clasped hands of his son and his friend, "_Aa_' _menealle nauva calen ar' malta._" (_I bless you, may your ways be green and golden._)

"_Lye harmuva onalle e' cormielye_," Legolas placed his free hand over his heart and made a slight bow as he uttered the ritual response, a tension he hadn't know was there relaxing as Aragorn openly blessed his relationship with Eldarion. (_We shall treasure your gift in our hearts._)

With a slight smile ghosting across his lips, Aragorn stood and embraced both Legolas and Eldarion as he would any revered companion-in-arms though he also took the chance press a kiss upon Eldarion's forehead in the process. Legolas took this as his sign to politely withdraw to give father and son some time alone before the morning came and took his leave after whispering an endearment into Eldarion's ear after pressing a chaste kiss to his love's lips; despite Aragorn's blessing he wasn't about to try his luck by kissing Eldarion fully in front of his long-time friend. At the same pair of doors Eldarion had hesitated in when entering the Hall, Legolas paused to glance back once before he retired for the night. The sight he saw was a comforting and yet strangely sad one as his eyes drank in the picture Eldarion made sitting in front of the fire with Aragorn, father and son bending their heads together over a pipe as their voices rose and fell just softly enough that not even he could make out the words. Legolas could only hope that he had the chance to see this sight many more times, and by the Grace of the Valar they would return from their quest triumphant so that he could.

* * *

Posted On: September 24, 2006


	13. Partings and Reunions

Writing has been a slow thing lately, but I finally managed to accomplish something. Blood's Sacrifice is currently on hiatus for a little bit, but I do plan to finish it once I figure a few things out. Please bear with me in the meantime.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 12: _Partings and Reunions_

"I still should be going," Faramir wasn't happy as he faced the trio standing near the White Tree, the sunlight dappling over them warmly despite the sorrow of the occasion, "I swore years ago that I would protect Eldarion with my life. It is my duty as Steward."

Eldarion smiled sadly at the man he considered an uncle, "forever will I be grateful for that pledge, but now you have a wife with a bairn on the way. Your duty is here."

Faramir's head seemed to droop ever so slightly and Eldarion walked over to embrace the man, "I need you to watch after my family for me while I cannot, especially Calanon and Vanya. Please, Uncle Faramir, extend to them the same pledge you once gave me. Now it is they who need your teaching."

Eldarion stepped back and Faramir nodded that he accepted the words spoken to him, but Eldarion could still see that his Uncle wasn't pleased about being left behind. Turning Eldarion awkwardly embraced his very pregnant Aunt Eowyn and whispered to the woman to watch over her husband. Giving him an embarrassing kiss on the cheek and secretly pleasing Eldarion in the process, Eowyn winked to say that she would keep things well in hand. That left only the twins and _Adar_ to say good-bye to. Make that two _crying_ twins to say farewell to.

"Hey, _tithen-minea,_" Eldarion knelt down in front of the twins, "do not cry. I won't be gone forever. I will come back, I always have before, and I'll bring you back something extra special this time." _(Little ones.)_

"But this time is different," Calanon's hands were clenched into trembling fists as he struggled with his emotions, "I heard father talking! He doesn't want you to go to the bad place either."

Eldarion hugged Calanon tight, "I give you my promise, _tithen_ _muindor_, I will come back safely. Legolas and Uncle Gimli will see to that." _(Little brother.)_

"But who will teach us more Elvish while you're gone?"

Eldarion switched his hug over to Vanya, who sniffled some more, and Eldarion glanced at their father from the corner of his eye.

"I bet you could get _Adar_ to, or Uncles Elladan and Elrohir would love to."

"I'll do it!" Aragorn agreed hastily as he remembered some of the things the twins had taught Eldarion.

Eldarion smirked up at his father and gave the twins each a last hug, their tears starting up again as he stood to face Aragorn. For a long moment the two just stood there, as if measuring the other up, before moving forward to catch each other into firm hugs.

"_Dartharna,_" Aragorn murmured, "stay safe and come back to me." _(Stay safe.)_

"_Amin_ _nauva, Adar_," Eldarion was getting teary himself, "_amin_ _vesta_." _(I will, father, I promise.)_

Reluctantly the two pulled away, and knowing that he couldn't tarry too much longer Eldarion turned and walked back towards the tree.

"_Dartho!_" Aragorn called Eldarion back suddenly, "I would give you a gift before you go." _(Wait.)_

Turning around once again, Eldarion was surprised to find that Aragorn had unbuckled his sword from about his waist and offered it out horizontally.

"_Adar?"_ Eldarion was both surprised and confused as Aragorn walked towards him.

"Andúril, Flame of the West, forged from the shards of Narsil," Aragorn repeated the words Elrond had once said to him before adding his own epitaph, "long has this sword protected the freedom of the innocent, wielded by the hands of the Kings of Gondor. May it lead you home safely, my son, my heir."

Slowly Eldarion began to slip Andúril from its sheath, unconsciously imitating Aragorn's gesture from over two decades ago, then whipped it up sharply until he held the engraved blade vertically in front of his body. There in the early morning light the sword seemed to glow with power as Eldarion saluted Aragorn before sheathing the blade. Undoing the clasp that held his own blade on and passing it over to Aragorn for keeping, Eldarion belted Andúril's sheath about his waist. For a moment longer he stood there, an image of the splendor of the Kings of Gondor as he memorized every little detail about his family standing in the courtyard to send him off. Then Eldarion bent and shouldered his traveling pack before moving to finally stand between the patiently waiting Legolas and Gimli. Nodding that they were ready Legolas and Gimli each placed a hand upon one of Eldarion's shoulders as he reached for the tree, his last memory of the decaying courtyard of Azkaban fixed firmly in his mind. None of the three looked back at the others waiting to see them off as Eldarion's hand made contact with the tree when the sun fully broke across the horizon, but one final word floated back on the wind as the trio vanished into thin air.

"_Namaarie."_ _(Farewell)_

"_Quel_ _fara_ _amin_ _utinu,_ _melloneamin,"_ Aragorn echoed the farewell even though those it was meant for were no longer there to hear. _(Good hunting my son, my friends)_

… … … … …

The power ripped through the three travelers as if to separate them, but Eldarion was not going to let his companions be lost to him and held on to them through sheer force of will. As with the first time he had made the trip through the trees power, light flowed around him, begging to be touched and explored. Eldarion would have loved more than anything to do just that, to go to any world but the one he was headed to, but the power had a firm hold of him and was tugging him unerringly where it wanted him to go. The light pulsed, and Eldarion tried to warn Legolas and Gimli only to discover that he had no voice, was nothing, he was becoming a part of the light and his friends were slipping away from him.

It was painful this time, the light scorching his being and Eldarion flung out a hand that was not really there as the light burst and sparked around him, warning him not to fight it anymore. And reluctantly Eldarion did just that, not wanting to condemn Legolas and Gimli to paying the price for his unwillingness to go back to his birth world. He told the light that he would go willingly where it lead if only his companions could come as well. Slowly the pain lessened, the light becoming much gentler as it accepted this deal and consumed the three of them. Then everything was fading into dreariness and Eldarion realized he did indeed have form again as pain flooded his limbs. The pain forced him to his knees at the roots of the White Tree in Azkaban's courtyard, his breath coming out in harsh pants as he was forced to get used to having a body once again, to not being incorporeal like the light.

"_Melamin!"_ There was worry in Legolas' voice as he saw Eldarion fall to his knees, but Eldarion waved him off before he could kneel down to check on his mate and so he set his eyes to skimming the courtyard they were in just in time to see a dark mass leaping towards them. (_My love.)_

Sirius had cautiously slipped out through the doors after the last Dementor patrol had passed and found himself in an empty and dead-looking courtyard that he vaguely remembered from his arrival upon Azkaban. Mentally he cursed, unable to do so aloud in his animagus form; he had been hoping that the small door would have turned out to be a side entrance close to the beach, but it just wasn't to be his luck. Then Sirius cursed again as he realized that he wasn't alone in the courtyard as he realized that he wasn't as alone as he originally thought.

"_Melamin!"_ Sirius heard someone call out worriedly, only his canine-enhanced hearing allowing him to pick up the exchange at all; it seemed this person was also trying to keep quiet for some reason or another, not that anyone was ever loud in Azkaban unless they were screaming in dementia. (_My love!_)

Not about to give up his chance at freedom, Sirius zeroed in on the other people in the courtyard and froze. He didn't look anything like expected, only the bare resemblance left to the picture of his twin in the paper, but Sirius knew those eyes he could see shining out from beneath the long hair. They were Lily's eyes, Harry's eyes, and despite the fact that he was no longer a carbon copy of James, Sirius would know his godson anywhere; it probably had something to do with the ritual that was commonly used to bond godparent and godchild. In his sudden joy, a thing Sirius could not remember having felt in ages, he didn't think and bound straight for his godson.

"_Tira_ _ten' rashwe!_" The voice Sirius had heard earlier shouted out in that unfamiliar language again. (_Look out!_)

Instantly at the warning, two figures moved to block him from Harry, and his canine agility barely saved him from being sliced open by the sword and axe that each figure respectively held. Somehow Sirius managed to twist his gaunt canine body in midair so that his forward leap was halted and he fell to the ground with a painful thump, turning back into a human as he lost his tenuous hold over his animagus shift.

"_Tampa!_" The unfamiliar word flew softly through the night air again as Harry repeated the command that had originally checked the weapons from cleaving Sirius into bloody pieces. "_Dartho_ Legolas, Gimli!" (_Stop!_ _Wait _Legolas, Gimli!)

"_Tampa!_" Eldarion cried out a second time to keep Legolas and Gimli from advancing on the man that now lay at their feet, his first cry had barely kept them from drawing blood and he was glad his companions had excellent reflexes, "_Dartho_ Legolas, Gimli!" (_Stop!_ _Wait _Legolas, Gimli!)

Slowly Eldarion climbed to his feet and moved to stand between Legolas and Gimli so that he could stare down at the man. He wasn't sure why he had told his friends to hold, but he had felt a connection to this dog-man despite his resolve not to find attachment to anything in this world. Then, unbidden, his mind flashed back to a faded memory of spending hours pouring over a photo album filled with pictures. His mother, father, and brother; their friends Remus, Sirius, Peter…Sirius—Padfoot! His godfather. This man was his godfather. Why hadn't he ever been there for him? If Sirius was his godfather why hadn't he been there to stop the Headmaster when he had him placed in the mask?! Eldarion felt anger start to course through him, building up white hot within his body, anger he had thought he had gotten rid of years ago when _adar, naneth,_ and _daer-adar_ had helped him work through his emotions as a child.

Eldarion tensed to do something, to say something accusatory to the man lying huddled at his feet when screeches echoed throughout Azkaban and the Dementors came gliding out into the courtyard to recover the prisoner they had suddenly discovered missing, Sirius' sudden influx of emotion drawing them unerringly to where his escape had been halted. Beside him, Eldarion could feel Legolas and Gimli holding themselves stiffly in check; despite their previous run-ins with the Nazgul of Middle-Earth neither of his companions had been completely prepared for the similar effects of the Dementors.

"_**He tried to escape**,_" the Dementors circled Sirius, hissing their displeasure as Sirius curled up in a whimpering ball, "_**he has accomplices. We must summon the human **tirhuanea**, summon the aurors**_" (_Watchdogs_)

Vertigo swept through Eldarion as he experienced something similar to the chill Dementors inspired in humans, but this was different since Alara had given him immunity to the draining effect when she had named him a child of the Dementors. What Eldarion was experiencing was the overload of once again being part of a collective mind, the bond that was forged when he was a child bypassing all the mental shields he had so carefully cultivated under Galadriel's tutelage. It was overwhelming and Eldarion felt nauseous, something that hadn't happened when he had first become part of the collective mind, but then he had spent the past fourteen years living in a world where very few individuals had any sort of mental ability at all.

Because of this he had long since lapsed in keeping up the inner-mind shields that Alara had helped him cultivate when he had been a part of the Dementors collective mind, instead using a shield that encased his whole mind and was more effective at keeping Galadriel out—not that he had been able to do that very often, the Lady of Lothlorien was unparalleled in the area of mind magic. He was only glad that the Dementors were too focused on Sirius and his escape to realize that there was a new, yet familiar, presence in their collective mind—if they were all to suddenly turn their attention to him the vertigo would intensify and completely overwhelm him. He had to start rebuilding his shields before then. Thankfully, the bases of his original shields were still there and Alara's teaching came back to him easily, aided by the reconnection to the collective mind.

"_**There will always be a connection within your mind to us, little child**,_" Eldarion remembered how patient had been as she had guided his awkward first attempts at mind shielding, "_**so it will do you no good to protect your whole mind, we are already inside it. Instead section your mind off and protect each room within your mind. It will be like a house we can wander through to speak with you and leave knowledge in, but we cannot pass through any doors you have locked without your consent**._"

Then the words reverberating through the minds of the Dementors swirling around in the courtyard changed, drawing Eldarion away from the flimsy shields he had just finished snapping up, "_**Wait! Taran comes, Taran shall know what to do. Taran comes**._"

Taran. The name reverberated through Eldarion and his eyes snapped to the door that led from the courtyard into Azkaban prison. Next to Alara and Milpy, Taran had been the one he had missed the most when he had first found himself in Middle-Earth. Taran was Alara's mate and had often spent a lot of time with him when Alara had been off dealing with prison business. Taran had been the one Dementor he would seek out when he didn't feel much like communicating, but wanted company anyhow.

"**_Taran_.**"

The name slipped unbidden from both mind and lips as Eldarion watched Alara's mate glide towards the gathered group of Dementors hovering around Sirius. The connection in Taran's mind was instantaneous as all the Dementors' heads whipped up sharply beneath their hoods.

"_**Harry child?**"_

* * *

_Posted On: November 1, 2006_


	14. Realities Mesh

Wow, I actually managed to get something written.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 13: _Realities Mesh_

Eldarion leaned slightly sideways in his chair so that his arm brushed fleetingly against Legolas, taking comfort from the brief contact as he fought against the memories being in Azkaban once again dredged up. Though he could now admit to himself that his time in the depressing prison could have been worse if the Dementors hadn't accepted him, it had also been damaging to his child psyche. For an instant Eldarion experienced the feel of cold, harsh, magic-infused metal surrounding his face again in a suffocating hold and his hand jerked up to make sure it was still his own warm flesh beneath his hand. Comfortingly Legolas' arm came to rest around Eldarion's shoulders, letting him know that he wasn't alone. Meanwhile Alara and Taran, the rest of the Dementors had been sent back to their posts, were trying to decide what to do with their unconscious escaped prisoner even as they hovered over Eldarion.

"Harry child," Alara murmured yet again, "this is what Harry child looks like, but he has grown. Harry child, what happened to our Harry child?"

Quietly Eldarion began to tell them a little of what had happened in the fourteen years he had been gone, shocked to discover that it had only been seven years in this world, knowing that all the dementors would hear through the collective mind.

"I ended up in a different world somehow where I was found by a man named Aragorn. He tried to remove the mask about my face, but his attempts failed as had all others before it. Aragorn didn't give up though, he took me to Rivendell and the Elves where the mask was finally able to be removed—"

A stirring cry though the collective mind halted Eldarion from taking his story any further.

"Rivendell?" There was longing in Alara's question and Eldarion nodded.

"You have gazed upon Rivendell, walked the paths of Middle-Earth?" Taran pressed.

"Yes," Eldarion nodded, tensing as did his two companions; never had they mentioned anything about Middle-Earth. "Why? What do those names mean to you?"

The collective mind seemed to sigh and Taran glanced at Alara as if asking for permission. Eldarion knew he had missed something passing between the Dementors, but he had been away from the collective mind long enough that little nuances like this one passed by his perception. He did know when they came to a decision though, for Alara backed away from Taran to give him room to speak.

"You know, Ha—Eldarion," Taran corrected himself, "that we have not always been this way; you see our real selves where others cannot. What you do not know is that we were once children of Middle-Earth ourselves…"

Taran went on to tell them the secret of the dementors, how they had been corrupted from their original forms through necromancy. They had been Sauron's original version of the Nazgul, but they had been useless to him because they had been unable to use steel. And so he had banished them from Middle-Earth after he had devised the plan of the Rings. It was not a pretty story and the troubles of the Dementors had only gotten worse when a Dark Lord decided to bind their allegiance to him and use their soul-sucking effects against his enemies. The dementors had barely escaped extinction and had only survived by swearing their allegiance to the Ministry of Magic, chaining themselves to the Island of Azkaban as prison guards. It was a heart-wrenching story and talk quickly turned to what the three travelers would do when they left the Island of Azkaban so that they didn't have to dwell on the misfortune of the Dementors.

Legolas was the first one to notice that Eldarion wasn't paying full attention to the conversation, but was instead watching the prisoner.

"Harry," the prisoner moaned again, it was clear that he would be waking soon and Legolas wanted to know why the man called out his beloved's once-name.

"This human," Legolas asked, "who is he and what is he to Eldarion?"

"He is Sirius Black, a prisoner here for 14 years." Alara answered, "a murderer. We do not know what he is to Harry-child."

Eldarion finally looked away from Sirius Black and back at the others. "He is my godfather, and just like everyone else he betrayed me. He was never there when I needed him."

Sensing his love's distress, Legolas put a comforting arm around the young half-elf and whispered elvish into his ear.

"I didn't," the voice was hoarse, shocking them with its suddenness, "I would never—"

Sirius broke off into a fit of harsh coughing before raising his head to stare into Eldarion's eyes, "I swear that I never betrayed you or your parents Harry. I wasn't their secret keeper. Peter betrayed us and I've been in here ever since."

Listening to that voice husky from disuse slowly brought back a long buried memory for Eldarion. He had been bored and decided to sneak around through Azkaban, but then he had gotten lost and hadn't wanted to enter the collective mind to get directions in case he got into trouble for being somewhere he shouldn't. The corridor he had ended up in was full of screaming, raving lunatics that clawed away at their own skin when they weren't throwing themselves at the bars of their cells or huddled in weeping balls. Then there were the others who had gone silent, driven beyond the edge of sanity; one man's silence had been different though and Eldarion had stopped in the shadows outside the cell when the man had begun to talk, knowing that he was there.

"It was you," Eldarion's voice was soft, nearly choked, "you were the one I used to talk to. I had never seen your face."

"What?" Sirius was startled, not understanding what Eldarion was suddenly talking about.

"I used to come by your cell and you would tell me stories of pulling pranks at school, and of the godchildren you feared to never see again." Realization dawned on Eldarion, "You spoke of me. Then, does that mean the friends that you spoke of were—"

"Sweet Merlin," Sirius gasped in horror, "it wasn't a dream—the mask…How? Why were you in here? What the hell happened?"

Hesitantly Eldarion told Sirius how he had come to be in Azkaban, his face encased in the cold metal of the mask. He was afraid to trust Sirius, but if Sirius had truly been in here since his parent's death then he had a very good excuse for never being there when Eldarion had needed him. Legolas' arms around him reminded him that there were people in the universe that he could trust, that not everyone had or would betray him.

"I'll kill him," Sirius' voice was filled with rage, a canine-ish growl rumbling deep in his throat, "I'll rip the bastard limb from limb and give them a real reason to put me in here. I'll—"

"Enough!" Taran raised his voice in a way Eldarion could never remember him doing before. "Your anger will not help things, Sirius Black, and we must still decide what shall be done with you, but for now you shall wait while we help our Eldarion."

"Yes," Alara concurred, "we can no longer hide away our Harry-child now that he is free of the Sick-man's hold. Harry-child has grown and become Eldarion, capable of taking care of himself. Eldarion must leave Azkaban."

"And just where shall we go?" Gimli asked gruffly, "We know nothing about this _Aulë_-forsaken world beyond what little Eldarion could tell us, and that's not much." _(Aulë the Smith was the creator of the Dwarves.)_

"We do not know," Alara sighed, "but we shall do everything we can to help our Eldarion."

Sirius thought quickly, praying, "Let me go with them. I have a place they can stay. Please; I failed Harry once by letting myself get tricked and ending up here, but I swear upon Merlin's grave that I will not fail him again."

… … … … …

Sirius paced in agony despite his trembling legs. The moment he had asked to go with Harry the Dementors had burst into screeches that had echoed from all over Azkaban. Even Alara had been whipped into a frenzy until Taran had said something in a deep voice, the language unfamiliar. Things had settled down quickly then, but he had been taken into a different room while the others fell into conference. He knew the fact that they were considering his proposition was cause for some hope, but he still couldn't help but fret.

Pretty soon Sirius had lost count of how many times he had paced the small length of the windowless room, his emotions running rampant through him. His chaotic emotions did have one good side-effect though by not allowing the near-by Dementors to leech from him because he fluctuated between hope and despair too quickly for either to truly gain a hold. Sirius wasn't sure how much time had passed, but by the time the door opened to reveal a hooded Dementor on the other side he was near ready to go crazy and a pit of ice formed in his stomach.

"You must move quickly," the chilling voice belonged to the Dementor Sirius had heard be called Taran, somehow distinctive despite the fact that all the Dementor's spoke with the same rasp whenever they resorted to words instead of screeches or hisses, "we are not happy, but this is the only way. Should we find you fail in protecting Eldarion, I shall personally see your soul writhing in eternal torment as I suck it out bit by bit so that you feel every second of your life slipping from your body."

Sirius paid no heed to Taran's warning at the last as hope crashed into him. He would get a chance to spend time with Harry, to make up for all those lost years. He would protect his godson and help free his other godson, Harlan, from Dumbledore's influence—too late did Sirius remember why no one in Azkaban had any hope as a freezing chill seized his body. He tried to battle it, tried to hang onto the one thought that had gotten him through all the long years of imprisonment, but it was too late as his weak body succumbed and he was pulled forcefully into the despairing darkness.

* * *

Posted On: January 16, 2007


	15. A Safe Place

Happy Reading!

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 14: _A Safe Place_

Warning: The end contains some odd, could be considered slightly lewd, humor.

"**_Language of Westron"_**

**… … … … …**

"**_Well he better wake soon_**," the voice was gruff as if it had been drawn from the Earth itself though Sirius could not understand the language the words were spoken in, "**_we've no idea where to go without him._"**

"**_Taran_** **_said that the effects would wear off once he had been away from the Island for a bit_**," the quieter voice belonged to his godson, Sirius was sure of it, "**_it shouldn't be too much longer_**."

"_**We run risk of discovery here**,"_ the third voice held a similar cadence to Harry's as if they more frequently spoke a similar language that the first one did not, "**_we do not know this world and cannot afford to tarry long in the open until we understand it more. I would feel more comfortable walking into a den of Uruks or even Mordor itself than to see another of those moving metal things heading right for us_."**

"**_I think it was a lorry, a metal carriage that runs without horses_**," the musing voice was Harry's, "_**but it has been so long that I cannot be sure. I should have known better than to scout so close to the road, **Adar **would scold me for sure.**_ _Amin_ _hiraetha."_ _(I'm sorry.)_

"**_It is not your fault_**," Sirius managed to open his eyes enough to see the blonde man, Legolas, put a familiar arm around Harry's shoulders as he spoke, "_**you were a child when you came to us and embraced our world, we do not expect you to know any more than we do about this forsaken place**._"

"**_Though it would be nice_**," grumbled Gimli, earning himself a sharp but obviously friendly blow to the back of his head from Legolas.

"_Fo_—" Gimli started to say some crude curse, but Harry silenced him and looked Sirius directly in the eye.

"You're awake," his voice was calm and even, the language finally one Sirius understood, but Sirius knew he still had a ways to go with his godson, "can you take us to this safe place?"

"Harry," Sirius found his voice still painful to use, "I—"

"Eldarion." Harry, cut him off, "my name is Eldarion. Please use it."

Sirius felt pain stab him in the chest, but it wasn't a physical pain. Somehow though he managed to nod his head in agreement, he wouldn't allow something stupid like a different name or the fact that his godson was treating him like a stranger ruin the chance he had been given to make amends.

**… … … … …**

"**_I don't see anything_**," Legolas spoke, "**_not even my Elven eyes can make something appear where it is not_."**

Sirius lowered his hand from where he had been pointing at his ancestral home, Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and sent a puzzled look towards his three companions who were skulking in the night shadows while keeping on wary alert. The way the Dwarf was gripping his axe, Sirius didn't want to know what would happen if someone walked by and spotted them.

"What's wrong?" Sirius directed his question to Eldarion, waiting for a translation; it had frustrated the animagus to no end to discover that he could no longer understand the other two now that they were away from the reach of the Dementor's mental magic.

"They do not see whatever it is that you are trying to point at. I see something," Eldarion answered softly after a moment, "but it wavers, it's indistinct."

"Damn," Sirius slapped himself on the head, "the wards! They keep people who don't know the house is there from seeing it. H—Eldarion, you can probably see it a bit because you're my godson or because you have a Seeing Ability that hasn't fully developed…I'm not sure which."

"_Hrekin,"_ Gimli spat the curse out like a foul taste after Eldarion translated Sirius' explanation, "**_what good does a safe house we can't see do us! The human's turning out to be more than useless._"**

Sirius glared at Gimli, knowing something had been said against him even if he didn't know the exact words. He knew Legolas and Eldarion weren't sure whether to trust him or not, they were with him only out of necessity at that moment and he could sort of understand that, but at least those two were being distantly polite compared to what he saw as the Dwarf's open antagonism towards him.

"If you would give me a moment, I can fix this," Sirius was starting to get peevish; he was still far from healed from his stint in Azkaban, "but you'll have to be touching me for it to work."

Gimli went to grumble again when told this, but Eldarion held up a silencing hand and walked forward to lay a hand lightly on Sirius' shoulder without getting too close otherwise, "**_do not start Gimli, we are all tired and we need to get into shelter. We have to trust him on this one."_**

Muttering imprecations under his breath Gimli reluctantly moved to stand beside Legolas and Eldarion, roughly gripping Sirius arm in an attempt to try and start another conflict. For Eldarion's sake, Sirius managed to summon his nearly non-existent willpower and didn't rise to the bait.

"I, Sirius Orion Black, heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, demand entry for myself and my companions!"

A reluctant pop sounded softly in the night and before the trio's very eyes Number 12 Grimmauld place came into view. Appearing thin and tall at first, the house quickly began to grow and move until the two houses on either side of it were forced to move as well or be consumed by the foreboding place that was claiming dominance on the space they had been residing on.

"_Ed' i'Valar_," Legolas breathed as the dark atmosphere washed over them all. _(By the Valar.)_

Surreptitiously Eldarion wove his arm through the crook of Legolas' own arm, both of them had faced Darkness in their lives but it didn't mean it was their choice to willingly stay in a place reeking of it as this house did. Glancing at one another to alleviate the slight discomfort they were already feeling, Legolas and Eldarion followed Sirius into the house with Gimli bringing up the rear; neither Elf expected this to be an easy place for them to stay at, but it was a vast improvement over the aura of death and insanity that had permeated the Island of Azkaban. At least so they thought until a painting of a sour-looking old lady starting screaming at them the moment they set foot into the house.

"TRAITOR!" She screamed, "BLOOD TRAITOR! FILTH! I'M ASHAMED TO CALL YOU MY SON! YOU DARE—"

With a muttered epitaph, Sirius struggled with a pair of curtains that hung to either side of the portrait frame, applying all the strength he could muster with his gaunt and wasted body to no avail. It was as if some force was resisting his efforts.

"—SET FOOT IN THIS HOUSE WITH THOSE FREAKS BEHIND YOU!"

The curtains suddenly snapped shut so that Legolas and Eldarion, even with their superior hearing, could barely make out even the faintest sound of muffled curses still emitting from behind the curtains; to the other two the foyer was filled with blessed silence. Once certain that the curtains weren't about to spring back open again and assault his ears once again with the high, screeching tones, Eldarion stepped back away from where he had stood beside Sirius to help close the curtains.

"Thanks," Sirius panted, "I don't think I could have closed them by myself. Sorry about that, I didn't know it was there. I'm not surprised though; my mother was a domineering old bat and liked to know everything that was going on in her house."

Eldarion merely nodded and waited for Sirius to continue, not bothering to translate for once, none of them seemed to know what to say or do after what had just happened.

"Errr…right," Sirius seemed to realize he had come close to rambling, "I guess we should see how the house is set up after all these years. The kitchen would be best to start with; it was always the safest and most normal place in the house when I used to live here. Just be careful of Kreacher if you run across him, I doubt the little nut-bag's been kind enough to croak yet."

Exchanging glances with the other two as he translated, earning puzzled looks when he mentioned the creature that was a bag of nuts, Eldarion motioned for the other two to follow Sirius down the hall. Eldarion, Legolas, and Gimili were all wondering what that last comment had meant and dreaded that they were about to find out. The three travelers from Middle-Earth were already feeling unbalanced given that they had just seen a moving portrait, and not only that, but it had seemed aware of what was going on around it and had screamed at them. Add that on top of a house that had seemingly appeared from nowhere plus the large metal objects that moved quickly on their own, and they weren't sure how much more they would be able to handle—they certainly didn't want to run across this bag-of-nuts-creature. It was becoming apparent that in this world their skill in battle would mean nothing, their weapons next to useless, and that was something that did not sit well with the warriors.

The sight of the gloomy old kitchen did nothing to alleviate their worries either. Dust hung thick in air that had not seen sunlight in sometime, the dark corners of the room excellent hiding places for anything that might decide to attack. Instinctively Gimli hefted his axe a bit higher, Legolas' fingers were ready to go for bow or knife at a moments notice, and Eldarion's hand settled a bit more firmly upon Andúril's hilt.

"Kreacher," Sirius glared around the dirty kitchen, "I know you're in here you little beast. Come out now!"

"Won't do it," the yell was muffled and barely audible, but it was enough to give Sirius a direction, "won't serve Missus' bad son!"

Stomping over to the huge cast iron stove, Sirius leaned around it and peered futilely into the hole there before growling and shoving his hand inside. After a bit of a scrabble and some inventive mutterings, Sirius emerged grasping a struggling bundle. His victory was short lived though as the bundle reared back and bit him.

"SON OF A—" Sirius lost his grip on the wriggling thing, grabbed it again, and then quickly shoved it towards Gimli.

Surprised, Gimli grasped what appeared to be a withered foot and held it out as far as his own short arms would allow, poking at his new burden with the tip of his axe.

"**_This creature doesn't look like a bag of nuts_**," Gimli commented to Eldarion and Legolas in a puzzled voice as he poked it again, this time earning himself a squeal.

Still unsure as to what he held, Gimli shook the thing around a bit before pulling it close and sniffing at it. Immediately after sniffing it he snorted in disgust and dropped the creature to the floor, allowing Eldarion to get a good enough look at it to realize what it was.

"**_It stinks_**," Gimli said in explanation to his actions as the creature scurried back into its hole.

Legolas was never one to pass up the opportunity and gave a decidedly Elvish smirk as he proceeded to tease his friend unmercifully, only the tone of his voice taking the sting out of what others would see as hurtful words, "**_are you sure you just weren't smelling your own stench, after all, you dwarves tend not to bathe often. Perhaps that bag-of-nuts creature is kindred to you, it does seem to like dark and smelly caves as do you._**"

"**_Why I—_**" Gimli growled, relishing the chance to get into another argument with his Elvish friend.

Eldarion on the other hand wasn't going to stand by and listen as the two started another round of seeing who could insult the other the worse, so he interrupted their bickering with the most innocent expression he could manage, "**_perhaps his nuts rotted."_**

Immediately Gimli shut up as both he and Legolas turned just in time to see the wicked light dance through Eldarion's eyes, belying his innocent expression. Only Sirius, who didn't understand what they were saying, was confused as to why the two had suddenly shut up to stare at the innocent-looking Eldarion.

"**_I know you didn't get that from your father_**," Legolas finally managed to choke out through his surprise at hearing his love make such a lewd comment so innocently; even after all the time they had spent together Eldarion always seemed to find some way to surprise him.

"**_Don't look at me,_**" Gimli quickly defended his honor before it could even come into question, "**_I taught him a lot, but not to insult someone's pride bits_**."

Eldarion smiled, truly enjoying himself for the first time since they came to Earth, "**_I learned that from Naneth one day when the twins pranked her, but she mentioned rotting theirs herself._**"

In typical male sympathy, Legolas and Gimli winced and pulled their legs tighter together, sharing glances to remind themselves never to piss Eldarion off given who his various teachers had been. Sirius just stared at them all, at a loss.

* * *

Posted On: February 6, 2007


	16. Understanding

This is a combination of little points that need to be made and a filler chapter. I apologize, but I'm in the process of starting a new job and that has to come first.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 15: _Understanding_

"**_Language of Westron"_**

… … … … …

Eldarion looked in askance at the large pot Sirius seemed to randomly be throwing things into. The pot, Eldarion thought he had heard Sirius call it a potion's cauldron, had been drug into the kitchen by the unwilling Kreacher. In truth, Kreacher hadn't been willing to do it at all until Legolas had commanded the house-elf as well. In the week that they had spent in the safe house, Eldarion had come to notice that Kreacher seemed enamored of Legolas and was willing to do anything for the blond elf simply because he was an elf.

"And this is supposed to let them learn the language of English?" Sirius could hear the doubt in Eldarion's voice.

"Yes," it was sometimes difficult for Sirius to remember that Eldarion didn't really trust him and so would question what he was doing, "it's a potion that has been passed down through my family for generations. It's a combination of Jabberknoll brains and Myna tongues to help the person actually learn the language, Japonica berries and Coriander to stabilize the mixture and aid in remembrance, and then the actual memory itself which is added by blood. It's a fairly simple potion, but because of the blood addition it's considered a Dark Potion and therefore banned by the Ministry."

Eldarion seemed to go distant for a moment before his eyes focused again, "Taran would like me to remind you that should you end up back in Azkaban that he will take great pleasure in sucking your soul out bit by bit."

Sirius jerked in shock and almost dropped the Jabberknoll brains in before the potion had turned violet. "He can speak to you!? He knows what's going on here?"

Eldarion shrugged, "not really, not unless I open myself up to him since I'm out of the prison compound. I was asking him what he knew about potions such as this. I vaguely remembered reading books on potions in Azkaban and I always discussed such things with Taran."

"Oh," Sirius seemed to be at a loss before he changed the topic, "so you know something of magic?"

Eldarion puzzled over this question, he saw no harm in answering it but wasn't quite sure how to go about it. The magic of the two worlds, Earth and Middle-Earth, had some similarities even while they were vastly different. There was also the Elven Healing Craft that he had learned from his _daer-adar_—he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to explain that to someone who hadn't been introduced to it by a Master or hadn't witnessed it firsthand. Deciding not to complicate things, Eldarion settled for the simplest version he could think of that would answer Sirius' question. (_grandfather_).

"I am an _Istari_ at home, but our magic is much different from what is used here. I also spent much of my time in Hogwarts and then in Azkaban reading spellbooks so I do know some of this world's theoretical magic. I am not sure of my ability to cast such spells though."

"I can teach you what you need to know," Sirius offered, "we'll have to get you a wand, but I don't think it's wise to go to Diagon Alley for one—it'll have to be Knockturn Alley. Until we can get there I'm sure we can find one you might be able to use in the cache upstairs. That's where I found the one I've been using, my family was always full of paranoid bastards."

Any further conversation and possible get-to-know-you bonding that might have occurred was interrupted by a very dusty dwarf and a ruffled-looking elf entering the room, Gimli attempting to curse even as he coughed dust out of his lungs. Eldarion looked at his two companions in worry.

"**_What have you been doing?_**"

"**_Cleaning_**." Gimli growled unhappily.

"**_Why? What about Kreacher_?**" Eldarion was now puzzled instead of worried, wondering why his friends had been cleaning when Kreacher had actually been doing the job pretty decently under Legolas' direction.

Gimli and Legolas shared a look before Legolas sighed and moved to put his arm around Eldarion's shoulder, switching instinctively to Elvish, "_ro_ _avarite poikalle sambe_." (_He refused to clean your room._)

Eldarion sighed and nodded his understanding as he glimpsed the house-elf in question out of the corner of his eye, eavesdropping upon them. He had noticed Kreacher's animosity towards him, but hadn't taken much stock in it at first. Now he realized it was different than the hatred and loathing Kreacher held for Sirius or even the grudging tolerance Gimli had earned after kicking the house-elf around a few times to show it he was bigger. Kreacher despised him and given the house-elf's current reaction to how Legolas was standing, Eldarion had an idea why—Kreacher didn't think he was good enough for Legolas.

"_I'sambe_ _naa n'quel_," Legolas continued, "_alye'kaima_." (_The room is no good, we sleep together._)

Nervously Eldarion tucked a long strand of his unbound hair behind his ear, for the first time giving both Kreacher and Sirius a good look at the pointed appendage, "_nan_'—" (_but—_)

A loud pop and the shattering of glass interrupted anything else Eldarion would have said, jerking his head up to find Sirius had dropped a glass vial he had been about to fill with the potion. Confused Eldarion looked behind him in an attempt to see what had startled Sirius so, hand going to the knife at his waist—he had found it useful for stabbing at quite a number of the disgusting little creatures scurrying around the house, but he saw nothing. It wasn't until Sirius gained his voice again that he realized he was the source of the consternation, or rather the shape of his ear was.

"Your ear!" Sirius burst out, "it's pointed!"

"So is the other one," Eldarion retorted in the face of Sirius' indecorous reaction to his blood-rite heritage, "all Elves have ears like this."

"B-but, you're not an Elf! You're human!"

Eldarion took a deep breath, knowing that anger on his part wouldn't help matters any, but it was difficult given that the subject was one that he held so dear to his heart. "I am not human, at least not completely. I was raised foremost to be an Elf and it is a gift I cherish highly. The blood of the Valar, of the Elves, runs just as deeply within me as any human blood. In the eyes of my people and the humans of my land I am Elf-kind, and so I shall be in this world as well. I just hope you can accept that Sirius, that you can accept that I am not just the child of Lily and James that you expect and want me to be."

Sirius hung his head, "I know that, I'm trying to understand that, but how can I when you won't really tell me anything about yourself."

"_Melamin_?" Legolas' soft question kept Eldarion from responding, the Elf looking worriedly between him and Sirius; Legolas might not have understood the words passing between them but he could decipher the tones carried through their voices. (_My love_.)

"_Uuma_ _dela_, Legolas, _ta naa tereva_." Eldarion smiled up at his protective soul-mate, before turning to face Sirius, "if that potion is ready, give it to them. I guess it is time we trust you enough to speak of ourselves and it will be much easier if we can all understand a common tongue." (_Don't worry, it is fine_.)

Sirius nodded and resumed measuring out the doses of the completed potion, cautioning Eldarion to warn his companions that they would wind up with severe headaches after taking it. Legolas and Gimli both complained at this warning, but were committed to their course of action and downed their potions simultaneously. Immediately their faces screwed up and Eldarion instinctively moved out of the way incase they decided to spit the potions back out, but somehow the two managed to keep the disgusting concoction down.

"**_That tasted worse then Eowyn's cooking_**," Legolas gagged once his mouth was empty, "**_and that is saying something. I did not think anything could be worse than her meals_**."

Gimli was glaring suspiciously at the vial, "**_better not have been poison_**."

"**_Taran_** **_assured me that it should be safe_**," Eldarion was watching them closely, "**_how do you feel?_**"

"**_A bit unsteady_**," Legolas' creamy complexion had gone suddenly pale and Eldarion had just enough time to slip his arms around the Elf's waist to catch him as he blacked out; Gimli thudding heavily to the floor a moment later when he tried to move too quickly to help his friends.

… … … … …

Legolas woke to the pleasant feel of nimble fingers carding expertly through his hair and despite being disoriented, he found himself relaxing. Like all Elves Legolas loved having his hair played with by someone who was emotionally close to him.

"How do you feel?" Eldarion's voice was low, fingers not stopping their ministrations even though Legolas was now awake.

"Mmmmh," Legolas sighed contentedly, "I'll be fine as long as you don't stop that. What exactly happened?"

Eldarion smiled and shifted his hand slightly so that one finger brushed across Legolas' ear, causing the elf to shiver slightly.

"Both you and Gimli blacked out after taking the potion. It worked, you've been speaking in English with me since you woke up, but apparently the combination of ingredients reacts badly with non-human physiology. Sirius' explanation—he is currently hiding from my wrath somewhere in this house."

Legolas frowned slightly, "I didn't notice until you mentioned it, but I have been using English. Am I stuck speaking it all the time?"

"No, _a'maelamin_," Eldarion moved so that he was curled up next to Legolas on the bed, "you need only speak it when you wish to." (_My_ _beloved_.)

"_Quel_," Legolas murmured as he pulled Eldarion closer, happy to find himself easily speaking in his birth tongue despite the weird magic gifting him with the ability to speak English, "_ta_ _naa il'vanima vee'Sindarin_." (_Good, it is not as beautiful as Sindarin_.)

* * *

Posted On: March 24, 2007


	17. I Know You

Another author and myself have decided to poll: Who here plays the MMORPG called Maple Story? If you do and you're in Broa leave a review so we can find you!

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 16: _I Know You_

"_Elvish"  
_"_**Language of Westron"**_

… … … … …

Eldarion sighed as he gazed around the table where they all sat and wondered if it had been such a good idea for them to now share a common language. True he had hated the constant translation that had been necessary until just a few days ago, but at least then he had been able to avert arguments and snide remarks. Even Legolas who was normally the most serene one of their group had been unusually disagreeable, but Eldarion blamed that on the lack of activity and them being forced to stay cooped up inside; Gimli and Sirius on the other hand just liked to rip at each others throats.

"Enough," Eldarion's voice was tired and worn sounding as if he had repeated this word over many times before, "this isn't getting us anywhere."

"_Melamin_?" Legolas wrapped a comforting arm about Eldarion, sensing the young Prince's emotions.

"We do not now why the tree summoned me back here," Eldarion voiced the thoughts that had been tumbling through his mind, "but I know we will not find the answer here in this house. Staying here also does not help us learn anything about this world and only so much can we learn from Sirius' words."

Sirius closed his eyes almost as if in defeat as he acknowledged what had been said, "It's my fault, I've been scared to leave the house knowing that I'm a wanted man, and now that I've found Eldarion…I guess it can't be put off any longer. We'll head out to muggle London tomorrow. I doubt we'll find any answers there, those will be in the Wizarding World and I don't dare set foot there, but I can at least teach you how to fit in this world so that you can go out on your own."

Eldarion could see that the speech had cost Sirius a lot to say. Rising out from under Legolas' arm Eldarion moved to place a hand upon Sirius' shoulder, "thank you."

Sirius opened his eyes and gazed up at Eldarion with a ghost of a rakish smile, "better not say that until I've gotten you back here in one piece without being spotted as an escaped convict."

Gimli _hmphed_ in response, but Legolas' reply was a little more thoughtful, "Eldarion, do you remember Galadriel's hair?"

… … … … …

Sirius moaned yet again as they passed another shop window, "why blonde. I look like a bloody-ponce. I look like a bloody _Malfoy_!"

Eldarion shrugged in confusion to Legolas and Gimli before addressing Sirius, "at least we did not turn it bright red again this time, though it did look better on you than it did on Galadriel. And no, once again, purple and blue were not options. You would have stood out even more than your moaning is making you do now. Remember why we dyed your hair in the first place."

The warning was enough to shut Sirius up for a bit while he focused on explaining what the different things around them were for and how they worked. It was their fourth trip out into London and once again the quartet was trying to blend into the shifting crowds. It was a bit easier now that they were no longer jumping at loud sounds and the honking of passing Lorries. Unfortunately even after their other trips into the city it still wasn't easy for them to fit in when Sirius kept moaning at his reflection in windows and Gimli was being his usual rude self, his rough appearance a marked contrast to the other three who looked polished and assured in their new muggle clothing. Legolas and Eldarion were drawing the most attention of the group though, for besides being too beautiful for words they were walking casually with their arms wrapped around one another—an obvious item, much to the disgust of some. Perhaps if Eldarion and Legolas had drawn a little less attention their trip would have been pulled off incident free. As it was they were spotted, or rather Sirius was.

Gimli was the first to notice as the man, whose brown hair was turning prematurely to grey, stopped stock-still in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at their oddly structured group. People had been doing this all day but none had quite stopped so completely or stared at any of them with the same recognition that was dawning in the man's eyes. Gruffly clearing his throat, the tone of it different enough from his normal sounds to grab Legolas' and Eldarion's attention, Gimli used one of the trio's hunting signals to warn of danger. Eldarion turned his head enough just in time to see the man's mouth form Sirius' name in disbelief. As if his name being formed upon the man's lips was a leash, Sirius' head turned as well.

"Remus."

Sirius had told Eldarion about his friend Remus. Remus the Friend, Remus the Scholar, Remus the Prankster, Remus the Werewolf. They had been close, very close, and if any doubted that Remus had spotted Sirius it would only be because of his condition. Remus turned sharply to head towards a warren of alley's and Eldarion could see the despair in Sirius' eyes, knew from Sirius' talk of wizarding travel that once free of the prying eyes of the crowd Remus could be instantly gone and running towards the nearest official. They didn't have much time, at most Remus would have to travel five or six alleys into the warren in order to find a safe one to travel from.

"_Auta_," Eldarion, Legolas, and Gimli were already moving even as Eldarion uttered the command; no other words needed to be shared, the three knew who their quarry was and had hunted together many times over the years. _(Go.)_

The three of them split an alley in, Gimli staying on the direct course after Remus while the other two circled since they could move quicker. They had studied this warren of alleys well their first trip into town, it was to be their escape route should anything go wrong. Three alleys in and Eldarion began to breathe a bit easier as the crowds had thinned out drastically enough that he was no longer feeling pressed on all sides by noise and the smells of men, although the refuse piles in these back ways clearly needed to be taken care of.

Eldarion has just passed a fourth alleyway when Gimli yelled "_forya_!" _(Right!)_

Remus had turned to the right in an attempt to escape Gimli, had turned to run straight towards him. Skidding to a quick stop, Eldarion moved the few paces back to cover the alley opening he had just passed and drew a knife. He was none too soon either; within seconds Remus was there, drawing up short once he realized his route was cut off, whirling to turn and run back the way he had come only to find the way was blocked by Gimli and Legolas—also armed. Moving warily to keep both Legolas and Gimli in his sights, Remus prepared to make his way passed Eldarion. Remus' chocolate-brown eyes flashed umber for a moment as they met Eldarion's piercing green ones and he went to lunge by what he considered the weaker part of the trap.

"_Lanta_ _kaima_," Eldarion intoned the moment he had eye contact with Remus, the magic of Middle-Earth sliding softly around the mental shields that had developed over the years in the werewolf's mind. _(Fall to sleep.)_

Remus' world spun as he fought the feeling of tranquility that overcame him, swaying as Sirius came up behind Eldarion.

"Sirius."

Even Remus' voice sounded off-balance as if he didn't know whether to decry his once-friend or plead for aid.

"Please don't hurt him," Sirius asked of Eldarion, but Eldarion was focused solely on Remus.

"_Kaima_." It was a command this time instead of a suggestion-spell although Eldarion never changed the inflection in his voice; with no further chance to resist Remus was pulled down into the darkness, accompanied into his dream by the stare of those piercing green eyes. _(Sleep.)_

* * *

_Posted On: May 23, 2007_


	18. Life Anew

Well, this past week has been fun. The hard drive on my laptop decided to crash. Thankfully it is now rebooted (_prays it stays that way_) and I went through a major session of backing everything up on it. And from my joy of having my laptop back, I present you with this.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 17: _Life Anew_

_"Elvish"_

**_"Language of Westron"_**

… … … … …

Remus' eyes wouldn't open even if he hadn't been blindfolded, but he didn't need them to know what position he was in. He could feel the thickly spelled chains against his flesh, tying him to a padded metal chair that was reclined back so that his face would be pointed at the ceiling. The magic tasted undeniably of Sirius, but it wasn't Sirius Remus sensed in the room with him. Though the person in the room made no sound and stood absolutely still, Remus still knew someone was there with him by the heavy smell of rich dark earth that filled the room somewhere behind his head. It was a smell his wolf-side recognized from the alleys where they had trapped him—the shorter, heavier man in the group. Remus wondered where the others were, where Sirius was and cursed himself for the emotions that rose up sharp and poignant. Sirius was a betrayer, the enemy, and yet for a moment in that alleyway he had seen the Sirius he had known from Hogwarts and had almost called out to him as a friend—

"Done playing sleep yet?" the voice was gruff and slightly accented, "I'm sick of standing here watching you when I could be picking good meat from my teeth."

Remus didn't answer and the man _hmphed_, "just as well, Eldarion will know what to do with you. If it were up to me, you'd be dinner right now."

A soft chuckle came from the doorway, Remus hadn't even sensed anyone else approach, "now I remember why I do not ask you to accompany me on missions of diplomacy, Gimli. You think first with your axe and then with your stomach."

Another snort from Gimli, "didn't hear me mention my axe this time, did you?"

"No," a new voice entered the conversation, "but I do not recall you having a liking for raw meat and he would not fit inside the oven whole, thus you would have to use your axe before you could eat him."

"Damnable Elf," Gimli growled, "you always mess with what I say. I was trying to scare him."

"Then you should have just shown him your face," the voice was rougher than before, deeper, but definitely Sirius, "it's enough to give me nightmares and I've lived with the living embodiment of them."

"I'll show you the embodiment of nightmares you nut-licking—"

Remus decided that he had heard enough. From the sound of it this altercation could go on forever and he would never get any answers, but just as he was about to interrupt to remind them that he was still there and could hear them someone knelt down beside him.

"Those two do not get along very well and remind me much of children at times," it was the person who had first addressed the one called Gimli, "here, let me remove the blindfold for you Remus. I do not know why Gimli put it on you. I would release your chains, but Sirius has told us of werewolves and their strength and I don't want you to do anything rash until you have heard the whole story. My name is Eldarion."

The knot of the blindfold loosened and fell away, leaving Remus to blink as light assaulted his eyes and caused them to tear so bad that Eldarion actually held a raised hand over his eyes to block the worse of the light until he adjusted.

"Would you like some water?" If it wasn't for the fact that he was chained down Remus would have thought he was an honored guest, but he accept the water anyhow—he knew better than most than to look a gift horse in the mouth and doubted that the water would be poisoned when they seemed to want him alive. It also served wonderfully to ease his throat for him to talk.

"What's going on?" Thankfully his voice didn't crack and he managed to sound collected, "why am I here?"

Eldarion gave a graceful shrug of his shoulders, "you saw Sirius and we could not allow you to spread word of his whereabouts to the proper authorities. We also thought you would wish to hear the truth, but doubted you would listen willingly. Thus your kidnapping."

"Truth," rage was starting to burn within Remus, a rage born of hurt and betrayal, "I know the truth. _He_ betrayed Lily and James, our best friends, leading to their deaths and the death of Harry. Now he's probably trying to get close to Harlan to finish the job he started for his master before Harlan defeated him!"

Remus' voice rose harshly at the end, stopping the argument between Gimli and Sirius as if he had just thrown icy water on them, and he began straining against the chains binding him. Legolas moved to stand beside Eldarion who didn't move from next to their prisoner even as Remus thrashed, testing the slight bit of give they had left in the chains so his captivity wouldn't be too uncomfortable. Sirius finally seemed to regain the ability of thought and went to say something in his own defense, but the look in Eldarion's eyes made him halt. No one attempted to speak after that until Remus stopped straining against his bonds and fell still, panting with exertion.

"And how can you be sure you know the correct story?" Eldarion offered the water again only to be denied, his voice remaining calm as if Remus had just not attempted to break free.

"Because Dumbledore told me the truth," Remus shot back passionately, "if Dumbledore hadn't shown up at Godric's Hallow when he did, Sirius would have finished off Harlan like he had Harry. _Betrayer! Murderer!"_

The last two words were directed spitefully at Sirius and Eldarion realized they were losing the opportunity to present the truth to Remus and have him trust them; Remus was letting the rage and sorrow of his wolf-side overwhelm his logical mind, but the reactions seemed as if they were being influenced by something beyond rational thought. Almost as if they were triggered instead of natural.

"Remus—" Sirius' voice was a wounded whisper in the background.

"If that's the truth," Eldarion wove a calming spell into his voice, praying it would work on the werewolf without him having to be more obvious about pulling on power, "then how can I be sitting here beside you?"

"What does that have anything to do with this," Remus' voice was a growl, but he was still able to think and focus much to Eldarion's relief, "I don't even know you."

"Don't you?" Eldarion held Remus' eyes with his own, aiding the man in rising above the spell buried in his subconscious, "Sirius knew me, despite the changes. Forget what you've been told, let your instincts tell you what you know."

Remus couldn't help himself, he fell into those eyes, fell into that voice…those eyes, he knew those eyes, but that was impossible. Those eyes were Lily's eyes, his cub's eyes, but his cub—Harry—was dead. Dumbledore had said so.

… … … … …

At least once a day, without fail, Aragorn could be found standing with his right hand pressed against the trunk of the White Tree as if trying to sense something. Since Eldarion and the others had left the Tree had stopped wilting, but it hadn't shown any signs of getting better yet to everyone's dismay. It was an ill portend of Aragorn's rule, the White Tree had always bloomed when one of his line sat upon the throne of Gondor.

Softly Calanon and Vanya approached their father at his vigil when it became apparent that he would not be moving anytime soon.

"Father—" Calanon really hated to disturb Aragorn when he got like this.

Aragorn didn't speak, but held up his free hand to indicate the need for silence. A moment later the twins saw why as a small section of the leaves near Aragorn's hand slowly turned from dying brown to a green blossoming with life. Amidst this tiny patch of green a fragile white blossom bloomed and suddenly it seemed as if the world weighed a bit less heavy on Aragorn's shoulders.

"Eldarion is alright," there was relief in the king's voice; "he is making progress. We may not be with him now, but the tree will see to it that we know of him. Here, place your hands upon the trunk next to mine."

Together the three stood there and felt the tiny spark of life that was returning to the tree, running sluggishly through the roots that bound it to the world Eldarion had come from. For the first time since Eldarion and the others had left, Aragorn knew that they were alive and making progress on their quest. He could only hope that it would mean that his son would be back with them soon and that he would be given the chance to see his son bonded to one of the few people in this world he trusted unconditionally.

* * *

Posted On: July 14, 2007


	19. Into the Maw

I'll be starting class this week, thankfully I'm only taking one this semester, but I don't know how much work the professor will lay on us yet. It may or may not affect my writing time, what little of it I have now. But then life's like that. Don't lose faith in me.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 18: _Into the Maw_

_"Elvish"  
_**_"Language of Westron"_**

… … … … …

"It might work," Remus said slowly, thoughtfully, "it's an intriguing idea for sure."

"Of course it is," Gimli said with an indignant huff, "Eldarion thought it through completely. He was brought up studying tactics and strategy and his plans aren't foolish enough to involve breaking into a magical castle, kidnapping a child, and living like thieves in a school full of children."

Gimli glared at Sirius for coming up with that plan, the two still refused to get along and Gimli's trust was hard enough to earn even when he was willing to give it. Since Remus had joined them they had gotten enough information on the wizarding world to realize that they needed to be at Hogwarts; Sirius had added in his desire to kidnap Harlan and had voiced that thought in every new plan that was suggested. Eldarion on the other hand was not going to place his once-twin above the safety of his friends and their mission.

"It will work," Eldarion was confident, "your job was to recruit allies and the Elves, who you yourself have said are not known whether to still exist in this world or not, heard of this. Legolas will be the ambassador for our people, learning of the wizarding world to see if we will commit to an alliance or not. While with us you learned that I, Legolas' chosen, possess magic and will convince the Headmaster that I should be taught as a gesture of good will. Gimli is our bodyguard, but it will be an unspoken understanding that he will report his observations to his people."

"And I get to hide," Sirius added on glumly.

Eldarion turned to Sirius, "in the beginning, yes, you will have to hide, but there will be plenty for you to do once we are settled. You will be able to listen where we cannot."

Remus brought up an argument, still not sure they could pull such a plan off, "what if Dumbledore wants proof of what you can offer."

Eldarion waved a hand dismissively, "I will deal with that when it occurs. If called upon we will give small demonstrations on what we are capable of, but will not give any indication on how many of our races there are. If I am correct and the creatures you speak of are monsters from our world then even just the three of us will be worth more than dozens of your wizards."

"Dumbledore will want to keep a close eye on you, keep you under his thumb and in the castle where he can manipulate you, you are an unknown factor and he likes to be in control."

Eldarion knew this truth all too well and his gaze grew steely, "the Headmaster will not be allowed to restrict our comings and goings and should we feel caged any chance of alliance, whether fictitious or not, will be off. We will need time to search for the Elves and Dwarves in this world and I do not wish the Headmaster shadowing our every move; I can sense their presence but not their location, I will need to learn more of Earth's magic for that."

Above all else Remus wanted to keep his cub safe, it angered him to know what Eldarion had suffered in his childhood, "then shouldn't you wait a bit longer? I can teach you magic here."

"No," Eldarion's voice was firm, but his eyes said he understood, "We will help wage this war against the Dark to complete our task here so that in time the Tree will bloom again to send us home. The longer we stay here the longer it takes for us to get home. Besides, prolonged absence on your part will raise suspicion. We are probably already pushing things by keeping you here this long, but I am hoping that news of our willingness to ally will assuage that suspicion."

Remus sighed as Eldarion sat there and majestically fielded his arguments; he was ever inch the Prince they said he was, "I'll go to Hogwarts tomorrow then."

Eldarion nodded in thanks, "we shall accompany you."

… … … … …

Visually, Eldarion could remember little of Hogwarts, but it sensed the same. The atmosphere was just as saturated with magic and the Presence he had felt as a child was there to greet him and wrap around him in welcome. Eldarion could also sense the presence of his once-twin inside the castle and strengthened the barriers he kept around his mind, it wouldn't do for their connection to spring alive again from close proximity; it would be an inconvenience at the very least, but more likely a threat to their mission should Harlan be wise enough to realize what it was.

"Eldarion, _melamin_?" As always Legolas was there beside him.

"_Amin__ tereva_," their hands brushed softly but did not clasp, they wanted to be free to reach for their weapons if necessary, "my few memories of this place are not ill ones despite what came after." (_I'm fine.)_

"Are you sure you still want to do this?" Remus was nervous, but hiding it well, "we can still leave and come up with another plan."

"We cannot leave now even should we wish it," Eldarion walked confidently on, nothing in his manner betraying any unease he might have felt, "the Headmaster already knows we approach. I can feel him reaching out to sense us with the magic of the school, bending it to his will so that he knows of all that is within what he considers his domain."

Gimli cleared his throat, "**_you sure you can remain detached? I never saw you with that hunk of metal on your head, but I still want to cleave the bastard's head from his shoulders and stuff it up his arse."_**

"**_I will be fine, Gimli, I will not let the past destroy my future. We have been given a task and I will see it through so that we may return to our home, to Middle-Earth. To my family. The Headmaster took my past, but he will not take my future; that is mine to decide, mine and Legolas'._**"

The group grew closer to the looming castles, its towers soaring to reach the sky in a jumble that made sense only after a bit of staring. The castle was built in an oddly strategic manner for a building intended to be a peaceful school, but then Eldarion thought again of what he had read of the time period during which Hogwarts had been constructed and found it fitting. With some work Hogwarts would even be able to relatively withstand an orc or uruk-hai attack, Eldarion had little hope that the creatures destroying this world weren't like the ones from Middle-Earth and well remembered the lesson that had been taught from the fall of Helm's Deep. Every fortress, no matter how seemingly impenetrable, had a weak spot that could be exploited by the enemy.

"Maybe he does not know we are here," Legolas voiced softly as they reached the large spell-enforced wooden doors, "I do not see anyone coming to meet us. At home this would not only be a severe breach of etiquette, but a security issue as well."

Remus sighed as the door opened themselves to allow entrance, "no, Eldarion was right. The Headmaster knows we're here; he's playing games with us. He'll be in the Great Hall for lunch right now and I'll have to get him since I don't know the current password to his office."

"I don't like this," Gimli growled, reaching about to finger his axe where it was slung across his back, but he followed the others into Hogwarts anyhow.

They walked through Hogwart's halls, silent and wary, trying to take in and analyze as much of their surroundings as they could. The whispering portraits, suits of armor and their weapons, small halls that lead off of the main one, doorways—they took it all in as they followed Remus in the direction of the Great Hall until they found themselves standing before two large doors that were only a little less ornate than the main entrance to the castle. From behind the doors came the muted sounds of conversation and the clinking of cutlery. Remus hesitated only briefly then softly pushed with his hand upon one of the great doors, allowing the magic imbued in them to swing the doors open to just the amount he wanted.

It was enough to 'catch' the already aware Headmaster's attention and he nodded at Remus' beckoning and whispered something to the Professors sitting on either side of he before he rose. As expected, the sight of the Headmaster rising in the middle of the meal caught the attention of those who hadn't already idly glanced at the doors when the one had opened and necks were being craned to see what was drawing the Headmaster away. The curious denizens of the Great Hall managed to get one decent look at the waiting visitors outside the doors before their view was blocked as the Headmaster passed between the gap of the doors, but that glimpse was enough to get the rumor mill started as the students speculated on who the strangers visiting Hogwarts in the middle of a war were.

… … … … …

"Remus," the Headmaster nodded to them all despite only speaking to Remus, the keen and twinkling blue eyes taking in their physical differences from humans, "I think we had best take this to my office. If you will all follow me?"

Eldarion resisted the ridiculous urge to ask if they had a choice before falling in quietly behind Remus and the Headmaster, Legolas at his side and Gimli bringing up the rear. They way they took was a confusing warren of passages, they might have even doubled back once or twice, but even the trio's keen sense of direction honed from campaigns lead through forests and caves soon became unreliable. At last they managed to hop onto a staircase before it began moving beneath their feet, Gimli growled indignantly at the sight of stone not staying where it had been put while Legolas and Eldarion paled slightly, and then they found themselves staring at a squat and ugly creature that seemed to glare at them with a glimmer of intelligence in its stone eyes.

"Fizzy drink," Dumbledore told the creature and it sprang aside with remarkable agility for something that had seemed to be made of solid stone.

This time the stairs grew upwards under their feet instead of merely detaching from their landing, revolving around until they came to a solid wooden door that looked utterly unremarkable. Eldarion was starting to think that Hogwarts would not need any defending at all if the students could all get to safe places that were as inaccessible as the Headmasters office, but then he remember how he had been able to slip out of his own rooms as a child and realized that most likely only Dumbledore was this well defended.

"Have a seat," Dumbledore motioned them towards a grouping of chairs as he took his own seat behind the large and imposing desk their chairs faced, "might I interest you in some tea."

"I thank you," Legolas said formally in the well-modulated tones he had been taught to use since childhood in such situations as this; he would have to act as their spokesman now according to their cover stories, "but we are fine."

Remus had warned them ahead of time that one could not always trust the Headmaster's offer of tea and Eldarion had no trouble believing it.

"Very well then," the Headmaster lowered his wand that he had been about to use to summon a house-elf for tea, "I would like to welcome you to Hogwarts. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. What is it that I can help you with?"

The twinkling eyes surveyed them again as if he held a secret they did not, Eldarion felt those eyes paused just a bit too long on him, but it was also clear that the meeting would not proceed further until they had been properly introduced and their mission stated. This was a crucial point in everything. They had to give the Headmaster the information he wanted without saying too much and giving their mission away.

"My name is Legolas, I am the Ambassador of the Woodland Elves." Once again Legolas' manner showed why he had been Thrandil's heir, "to my right is my bodyguard, Gimli, and upon my left is my intended, Eldarion. We have come to asses the troubles of your people and arrive at a decision on whether we shall lend you our aid in the battles to come."

* * *

Posted On: August 27, 2007


	20. Creoso

Here's a Thanksgiving gift for everyone and I hope you enjoy your holiday.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 19: _Creoso_

"_Elvish"  
_"_**Language of Westron"**_

… … … … …

"I would like you to welcome our new guests," the Headmaster was announcing to the assembled students at dinner the next day, "Hogwarts is pleased to host Ambassador Legolas of the Woodland Elves and his companions. They will be staying with us for a while to learn more about our culture so that good relations may be established between our people."

Eldarion gave a mental nod of concession to the Headmaster's speech; it was certainly well rehearsed and sounded as if nothing was at stake during their stay besides friendship. It also belied the hours they had spent in conversation with the Headmaster arranging for him to receive magical training along with Hogwart's students without them actually having to agree to a formal alliance. It had also taken a lot of discussion so that they would be able to keep their weapons on them at all times within the school, their biggest argument had been for the defense of the school should the Uruks attack—if an attack came it would have been a waste of time and perhaps lead to unnecessary casualties if they had to run in the opposite directions for their weapons. They had been forced to make some concession of course, Legolas and Gimli would be teaching any interested students how to use a sword so that they could defend themselves against the orc-like creatures that now walked this world, but that had been expected. What Eldarion hadn't anticipated was that he would be sorted like a normal student and be expected to stay in the dorms instead of with Legolas and Gimli.

"El-dariyon, if you will step forward to be sorted."

Focusing himself Eldarion moved forward with all the grace of a full-blooded Elf, attempting to show those who were soon to be his 'peers' that unlike them he was not human. He had felt uneasy under the Headmaster's scrutiny the night before and so today had worn the formal dress robes he had brought with him instead of his nice tunic like yesterday. He and Legolas, much to Gimli's disgust and Remus' interest, had also spent a good two hours doing each others hair in the styles of the Elven Courts so to better accent their ears and fey appearance. Of course neither of them had failed to notice that Gimli had combed his beard and worn his nicest tunic along with his most elaborately worked metal accessories. None of them would disappoint their kinsmen that night when it came to appearance and Eldarion wasn't about to do so through his conduct.

With a well practiced move that didn't disturb the bow set on his back or sword at his side Eldarion sat on the low stool that had been provided for his Sorting, tucking his long legs together to one side of the stool so that they lay along the ground. The set up might be fine for short first years, but for a nearly full grown Elf it could have been awkward—Eldarion was just glad that his robes had been designed to be worn over top pants, the skirt slit for ease of movement and to counteract bunching when sitting so he didn't have to fuss unnecessarily with his robes at important events.

"_Hello there_," the Hat whispered into his ear, "_a little late for a Sorting isn't it, but no matter. Would you mind letting me in so I can Sort you?_"

Eldarion realized the Hat couldn't read him through his shields. Normally a creation like the Hat should have been able to read his surface thoughts and character in order to judge him without being able to see any deeper into his thoughts, but Harry's mind was shielded with a combination of the shields Galadriel had taught him as well as those used by the Dementors. He hadn't realized the shielding was so thorough as to hide even his surface thoughts, which may have been why the Headmaster had been looking at him so hard. Remus had told them to keep their surface thoughts under control around the Headmaster, the man was a skilled mind-reader, and it would certainly worry someone like that not to be able to detect surface thoughts from another. Taking a breath Eldarion focused on his mind, pulling his outward shield in one mental level so that his most basic character and thoughts were accessible. It would have the unfortunate side effect of allowing him sporadic contact with the communal mind of the Dementors if there was high activity, but that was something he could live with.

"_That is better_," the Hat's voice came again, "_but you are many things. A Warrior. A Scholar. There is loyalty and bravery. You understand strategy. Your people are thorough in their teachings. Where would you belong?_"

Eldarion focused his thoughts as if he were talking with Galadriel and sent them to the Hat, "_I would go where I can learn. That is the reason why I am here._"

"_Not The Reason_," the Hat mused and Eldarion wondered if perhaps he had opened his shields just a bit too far, "_but a reason. Ravenclaw then.__"_

"_**RAVENCLAW!**_"

The Hat shouted Eldarion's Sorting out loud and Eldarion unfolded himself from the tiny stool, returning the Hat to the woman who had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. Giving Legolas a look full of meaning, Eldarion hid his reluctance and made his way to the table that had been pointed out to him earlier as being Ravenclaw territory. To give them credit they were applauding him politely and seemed ready to give him the benefit of the doubt without judging him. If Eldarion remembered correctly Remus had said that the Ravenclaw's tended to be a curious lot, always looking for answers but willing to accept and explore new ideas if there was decent supporting evidence. They would attempt to learn about him and his people before they decided about him, the downside to this nature meant that he would have to watch what he said in case it got back to the Headmaster and he learned something they did not want him to know.

"Welcome El-darie-yon," the Ravenclaw who greeted him struggled with the pronunciation of his name, but made a good go at it for a human unused to the musicality of the Elven tongue; it didn't help that Professor McGonagall had pronounced it wrong earlier as well. The boy also appeared to be in a position of power within the Ravenclaw house, a shiny badge was pinned to his robes beside the house crest unlike most of the others sitting at the table. "I'm Anthony Goldstein, one of the Ravenclaw Prefects."

Eldarion gave Anthony a small smile and took the chance to pronounce his name correctly for his new housemates, "I am Eldarion Telcontar. Thank you for the welcome."

… … … … …

Eldarion leaned back against Legolas as they sat out by the cold lake the a few days later after having taken a short jog across the grounds. Both Elves had always been early risers and most everyone at Hogwarts was still asleep, giving the two some uninterrupted time alone.

"Everything starts today," Legolas broke their comfortable silence, "you begin your lessons in their magic while Gimli and I teach the young ones the basics of the sword."

"You are not happy about that," Eldarion observed, "and I do not blame you. To teach those who have not grown with a sword in their hand is not easy."

"Your way will not be easy either," Legolas observed, "you knowledge of this world's magic is sporadic given what Sirius has taught you and what you learned as a child, but they think you know none of it. And your tutors—at least your housemates, while overly curious, sound as if they are kind."

Eldarion sighed, a sound of resignation. Despite having been sorted into the house of those who sought knowledge, only Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil had been officially assigned from Ravenclaw to teach him though many others had volunteered. His other tutor was to be a Gryffindor, albeit a very smart one from all rumors, named Hermione Granger. She was one of Harlan's friends and it had been indicated that Harlan would be attending the teaching sessions in order to help as well. Eldarion, Legolas, and Gimli could only surmise that Hermione had been chosen to teach him in order for Harlan to get closer to Eldarion so that Dumbledore's Golden Boy could get closer to Eldarion. Eldarion wasn't ready to get that close to his twin, even if no one besides his companions and himself currently knew Harlan was his twin.

"We should head to breakfast," Eldarion reluctantly stood and held out a hand to tug Legolas up despite the fact that he was the slighter of the two, "I do not think the Headmaster would be pleased if we do not show and we can't afford to give him cause to watch us closer than he already does. What are you going to do in your free time today?"

"I believe Gimli and I shall learn our way better around this castle, the Dwarf is certainly anxious enough to explore the deeper levels and unearth any ghastly secrets that might be hiding there. Remus also mentioned the large library here at the school, and of course I shall slip in to check on you from time to time."

Eldarion smiled teasingly up at Legolas, "I shall look forward to those distractions then, though I do not think I am such a child any longer that you must constantly be looking in on me."

Legolas merely tucked Eldarion more tightly to his side as they walked, reveling in the nearness of his love, "it is not that _melamin._"

"I know," Eldarion's quiet words had them falling into silence until they reached the Great Hall, both weighing in their minds what they were doing in this world.

Inside the doors to the Great Hall, ignoring the watching eyes of the students and staff who had already gathered for breakfast, Legolas pressed a chaste kiss against Eldarion's lips all the while wishing they could have lingered for longer with their mouths pressed together.

"_Tenna_' _telwan_." Eldarion bid Legolas as he reluctantly pulled away and headed for the Ravenclaw table where he was immediately bombarded by his new housemates, those nearest from the other houses listening in. _(Until later.)_

"Legolas and I are betrothed," Eldarion could tell he had disappointed quite a few people with his answer, though whether it was because he and Legolas were taken or because it wasn't something more scandalous he couldn't tell, "we shall officially bond when we return to our people."

"It doesn't bother you to be betrothed to another man?"

Eldarion thought he heard someone sigh about muggle-borns and remembered that Remus had said something about those raised in magical homes having no problem with same-sex relationships, but those that came from mundane households could sometimes have issues with the subject. It could sometimes be the same way in Middle-Earth if the same-sex pair were of different races, but the humans of the United Races of Middle-Earth had always been understanding of Elvish pairings because it was always easy to see the pure love between the couple. Elf-kind, for the most part, did not pair except for love.

"Legolas and I chose each other; our betrothal was not an arranged one. Among my people there are few who do not marry if not for love."

It looked as if everyone was getting ready for another round of questioning Eldarion, but Anthony Goldstein interrupted them.

"Alright, that's enough for now. I'm sure you all have classes you should be heading towards and Eldarion has a tutoring session this morning. Ready Eldarion?"

Eldarion wasn't ready, but refused to show it. Anthony had informed him the night before that his first lesson would be with Hermione Granger and Harlan. Dropping his right hand to rest lightly against the hilt of Andúril, Eldarion nodded and followed Anthony from the Great Hall towards the library.

* * *

Posted On: November 20, 2007


	21. Respect

Wow, I honestly hadn't realized I had let this go for so long. I apologize for the wait for this update.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 20: _Respect_

_"Elvish"_

**_"Language of Westron"_**

… … … … …

In Rivendell, Lord Elrond's library had been an open and airy place with small tables and lounging benches scattered around, each scroll or sheath of bound pages neatly labeled and kept on shelves. Lothlorien's library was much the same as the one in Rivendell except that it possessed a more scholarly atmosphere and was located high in the trees. In Rohan the library was not much more than cellar space, dusty scrolls jammed together in only the loosest order on shelves and spilling off of tables. Gondor's library was of a decent size with a long table placed in the center of the clean and orderly room for those interested in research, shelves surrounding it on either side and hiding smaller tables scattered along the edges of the room for those seeking privacy in their studies. The library contained books and scrolls on strategy, history, magic, as well as pieces written in various languages from all over Middle-Earth. None of the libraries had anything on Hogwart's library though.

As Eldarion and Anthony waited for Hermione and Harlan to arrive, Anthony gave Eldarion a quick tour of the library under the watchful eyes of the Library Matron whom the Ravenclaw Prefect introduced as Madam Pince. It was larger than it appeared, tables able to hold small groups placed in the center of the room so that shelves could dominate the rest. The shelves were divided into labeled sections and then the books were sorted by their level of difficulty. As Anthony walked him through the stacks Eldarion saw books on Transfiguration, Shifting, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Healing, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, History and Government, Astrology, Maps, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Rituals, and works of fiction for pleasure reading. There was one other section, the Restricted Section, but Anthony said it was off-limits to any student without signed permission from a professor. Eldarion couldn't wait to find a way to get in there to poke around—who knew what sort of treasure trove of knowledge was hidden there, inaccessible to most.

"Ah, there they are. Hello Eldarion, I'm Hermione Granger and this is Harlan Potter."

Eldarion looked up at the sound of a female voice and observed the speaker. She was of an average height, thick hair pulled back at the nape of her neck to reveal a pretty face sprinkled with freckles, her arms full of books. Beside her was his brother, arrogant and looking much like Eldarion imagined he himself would have if Aragorn and Arwen hadn't made him blood of their blood. Harlan was slightly taller than Hermione, about 5'8", his dark and untamed hair cut short to reveal hazel-green eyes.

"Well," Anthony said cheerfully as Hermione headed off to stake her claim on a nearby table, "I'll leave you in Granger's hands. I'll be back for you before lunch, Eldarion."

"Yeah," Harlan didn't seem all that enthusiastic to be included in the tutoring, leading Eldarion to believe even stronger in the theory that Harlan was only here on Dumbledore's orders, "let's start this. I have Quidditch practice later and don't want to be late just because you need tutoring."

"It is not necessary for you to be here, if you do not wish it," Eldarion addressed Harlan coolly, looking down at the other boy in the same way he would a recalcitrant soldier. "You may leave if you will only continue to be disagreeable and interrupt my lesson."

"I'm sure Harlan will be fine," Hermione interrupted, looking up from her books and shooting Harlan a look that clearly told him to shape up, "he's really a very good teacher when it comes to spell work and I was hoping we could start you working on some first-year spells today after we did the bookwork."

"Very well," Eldarion took the seat next to Hermione, "I will accept your word on this, but I do not have time for the tempers of young children. I am here to learn more of your magic and customs."

"Who are you calling a child?" Harlan took offense as Eldarion had secretly known he would. "You can't be much older than me."

"You are wrong there," Eldarion informed him. "To your eyes I may appear to be about sixteen years of age or so, but I have lived to see my twenty-third birthday. Time is different for my people than it is for you. To my people I am still very young, but I am considered an adult to your people."

Hermione looked at him speculatively. "If you are twenty-three, how old are Mr. Legolas and Mr. Gimli?"

Eldarion shook his head, "that is not my place to say, but both are older than I am. May we begin the lesson now? I have been told I have a lot to learn despite what Remus has already taught me when he stayed among our people."

"Oh, right." Hermione blushed a bit and pulled open a book to lay between the two of them on the table. "I thought we'd begin with Charms…"

The two, and eventually Harlan, bent over the book and began to cover the material within. Eldarion had to admit that Hermione was an effective tutor once he managed to convince her to teach the condensed version of each lesson without the history notes on how the charm came to be unless it was relevant to the casting. Reluctantly he had agreed with Harlan that Hermione was giving so much information that it was becoming tedious.

Finally Hermione closed the Charms book, having given him a tutorial overview of the first few chapters while he took notes on the different spells along with their incantations, uses, and wand movements. Most of it seemed a waste of unnecessary effort to him when he could cause an object to levitate without shouting a spell or flicking a wand about.

"We still have some time before lunch." Hermione noted, peering at her watch. "If we can find an empty classroom we can start teaching you some simple spells."

"Do you not have your own classes to be at?" Eldarion queried, asking the question that had been on his mind as their study session had continued through the changing of classes.

"Normally yes," Hermione admitted, looking a bit concerned at the thought of having missed some class or other, "but Professor Dumbledore excused the two of us for this morning so we could start you on the basics. I think he's trying to arrange a schedule with a handful of other students so that we can get you caught up on the main spells quickly. You'll have to do a lot of self-study in your free time though if you're going to catch up enough to join the classes. At the very least you'll need to read all the textbooks even if you don't get the hands-on practice until later."

Eldarion wished he hadn't asked. "That aside, you mentioned starting on some simple spell? Remus had shown me a few before we came here, but I would appreciate the chance to try some on my own."

"Right then." Harlan finally looked a bit interested in what they were doing. "I'll be the one teaching you the spells so pay close attention. There's a room we can use this way."

… … … … …

By the time Eldarion rejoined Legolas and Gimli after lunch was over, he really detested that they had to sit at the Head Table and he with the Ravenclaws, they all had a lot to share. Eldarion quickly filled the other two in on his morning lessons and the spells he had been taught, picking them up easily to Harlan's disgruntlement and making it unnecessary for the teen to show of his magical abilites too much, before falling quiet to hear Legolas speak. Apparently Remus had taken them that morning around the castle, showing them various rooms that might be used for the sword lessons before heading to an ancient armory.

"Many of the swords were forged through pure magic." Gimli complained. "Remus said they were meant to be used to cast spells with as well as to fight with. We can't use them for beginners and with that much magic in them they will probably be useless against an Uruk."

"Did you find nothing useful?" Eldarion asked in dismay.

Legolas sighed. "We did find practice swords that didn't contain magic or enchantment, but by that I mean they did not even hold a simple sharpening enchantment or one to keep away rust. It has been many ages since they have been touched."

Eldarion groaned. "Then we shall have our work cut out for us. When is the first lesson?"

"Right after the third meal." Gimli grumbled. "It is an impossible task and foolish to teach children right after they've eaten."

"Maybe not." Eldarion had a crafty look in his eyes. "We'll get as many swords in workable condition as we can before the lesson, it's always good to have extras and there are more swords than students, but care of one's sword is always first priority and I'm thinking that it would make an excellent first lesson."

Legolas let out a pleased laugh and Gimli gwaffed. "A most excellent idea."

… … … … …

Eldarion, Legolas, and Gimli were sitting cross-legged on the floor removing the rust from and polishing the practice swords when Remus showed up.

"Dinner's started you know." The werewolf informed them.

Eldarion glanced up briefly as he worked over a difficult patch of rust.

"We know. The House-elves were kind enough to leave food."

Gimli snorted. "They also offered to do anything for you short of bearing your children—and they might have offered even that if you two weren't to be bonded. We should have asked them to do the swords."

Eldarion glanced up mildly at Gimli before resuming his painstaking work.

"We could have, yes, but I will not take advantage of their good nature. Besides, using magic to clean the swords might make them ineffective against the Uruks." Eldarion finished removing the rust from the blade of the sword he held. "We may be tempting fate as it is by using this potion to help."

Eldarion began wrapping the bare handle with scraps of sturdy cloth to protect the wielders hands. "Should we sharpen them, do you think? This first group is to be the fifth years and older."

Legolas considered the idea. "Perhaps a few, but none of the ones they will be using for training. If we were at home it would be taken as an insult to use an unsharpened blade, it's like saying you are not worthy, but here these children do not grow up learning to respect the sword."

Eldarion nodded and set the dull blade aside, it went against every instinct for him to leave the sword unready for battle but he too did not see these human children as ready to bear a sharpened sword.

Remus watched on in curious amusement as the trio continued to prepared for the upcoming lesson. "What are you actually going to do?"

Legolas paused briefly in his work. "The first thing we're going to do is teach them how to properly care for their swords, it will also be a way to discover which children are actually serious about learning and which are merely here because they consider it to be a game. At the end Eldarion and I shall give a demonstration."

Remus nodded, his head slightly tilted as if he was listening for something. "Good, because here comes your first class now."

Turning their attention to listening as well Legolas and Eldarion nodded and got to their feet, putting aside the swords they had been working on and donning the outer tunics they had shed earlier to keep them clean. Together they made an impressive sight as they buckled their own personal weapons to their sides and laid out two of the practice swords. Then Gimli moved up beside Eldarion so the three of them could present a united front to the class, and while the group no longer looked as elegant they appeared as proud and dangerous warriors. Remus grinned at the three of them and then opened the doors to let the children in. It looked as if every student over fifth year from each house had shown up for this first lesson and Remus found himself plucking out a few younger years to turn away—all in all there were over a hundred students that had shown up in the dungeon training hall along with about half the teaching staff. Remus didn't know if he should feel amusement or dismay for the trio and decided on settling into a corner to watch instead.

… … … … …

Eldarion had been moving about the room constantly since the lesson had begun, showing the students the best holds and motions to clean the swords. From the grumbling going on none of them realized that they were already taking the first steps towards wielding a sword; not only were they learning to keep their weapon in good condition but the hold he showed them on the hilt to keep it steady was the same they would use when fighting, the motion he taught them to scrape at the rust was exercising the muscles they would need honed for true combat. Instead they just grumbled about not being allowed to use magic—Gimli had put a good scare into one student who had tried—and considered this a waste of time. Eldarion shook his head at the thought of these children feeling so secure in their magic that they found doing such a simple task a chore without it.

Eldarion sighed and glanced back through the rows of children again. None yet had their swords in any sort of useable condition, but he could also tell that unless something caught their attention soon they would lose all interest in the class. Legolas seemed to share the same thought, eye contact and a slight nod signaling that it was time.

Neither of them bothered to make an annoucement, no declaration of their intent. They simply moved, coming together in an empty space with their blades already clearing their sheathes. Metal rang sweetly against metal as their swords kissed, sliding away to just as quickly touch again. It was easy to see from every slight twist of the body, every graceful placement of their feet, that Eldarion and Legolas were Masters of this Art. They also certainly had the attention of the students now, grumbling having ceased to make way for bright exclamations as the fight went on.

Legolas and Eldarion ignored this, instead keeping up a constant stream of friendly insults in Elvish the whole time they fought as each tried to distract the other into slipping up. Unfortunately they had sparred in such a manner so many times before that it was unlikely to happen.

"_Auta miqula orqu_." Legolas bantered as they circled one another. (Go kiss an orc).

"_Manka lle merna miqula, lle ere'baur pedona_." Eldarion retorted without missing a beat. (If you wish a kiss, you only need to ask).

_"Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina_." (You're ugly and your mother dresses you funny).

_"Lle atara na loske en'roch."_ (Your mother has horse hair.)

Finally breaking into laughter, the two broke apart and sheathed their swords before bowing in respect to each other and facing the gathered students. They both knew that when they fell to insulting each other's mother that it was time to call it an end.

"Any questions?" Legolas asked the gathered students as they continued to stare.

"Yeah." It was a Gryffindor that finally spoke. "Why aren't we learning that? Why do we have to do this stupid cleaning?"

Legolas studied the student intently. "And what good does learning how to fight like us do if you do not have a properly cared for weapon to weild? Can you tell, through all the grime on that blade, if your weapon is flawed?"

The student shook his head and Legolas looked around, finally singling out another student bearing the crest of the snake on his robes.

"This student has done a good job. Gimli, if you would?"

With a grunt of acknowledgement Gimli walked up to the blond Slytherin who had done a good job and examined the blade. After a moment he nodded and came back with the sword, grasping it's hilt with both hands and holding it above his head. Once again drawing his sword Legolas attacked, swinging down with a forceful blow. For a moment the sword held, Gimli straining upward to hold off Legolas, and then the blade broke. The clang as the flawed metal hit the stone floor echoed through the now silent room.

"If this had been a battle and Gimli any less skilled," Legolas addressed the class, "that would have been fatal."

Eldarion only half-listened as Legolas finished up his speech and set the students to cleaning up, instead he picked a sword from the pile he had been working through earlier and walked over to the Slytherin student who's practice blade had been flawed. The other boy looked up at his approach.

"Here, label this one as your sword. I've checked it over already and it's in very good condition." Eldarion had been warned about the Slytherin's by his new housemates, but he had seen the way this boy handled his sword earlier and wanted to speak with him. "You took really good care of that first blade. Have you had lessons before?"

The other boy nodded. "I have. My father teaches me some when I'm at home. Like Professor Legolas he told me that a sword is something that commands respect and must be kept in ready condition if a person is to be worthy to carry it."

"That's good. I'll look forward to working with you more as these lessons progress." Eldarion smiled an easy smile and held out one of his hands companionably. "Though I'm sure you already know, I'm Eldarion Telcontar."

Draco happened to look over Eldarion's shoulder at just the right time to catch Harlan Potter glowering at them, a jealous look making his face ugly. There was already a rumor going around the school that Eldarion had rebuked Harlan and called him a child earlier. Always ready to ruffle Potter's feathers, Draco smiled back at Eldarion and took the offered hand.

"Draco Malfoy, at your service."

* * *

Posted On: August 3, 2008


	22. Eyes of Battle

I'm doing the happy dance right now. I finished another chapter. Sorry for taking so long.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 21: _Eyes of Battle_

_"Elvish"_

**_"Language of Westron"_**

**_... ... ... ... ..._**

Eldarion woke with a shuddering gasp, bolting upright and clawing at his face with his hands, meeting only flesh—not the metal he had dreaded.

"_Melamin."_ Legolas pulled his hands from his face, wrapping Eldarion into a hug; Eldarion had crept from the dorms earlier so that he could sleep with Legolas. "It is alright. I am here. _Amin mela lle."_ (_I love you_.)

Slowly Eldarion's breath evened out as Legolas held him. "It was that dream again. It's too close here. _He_ is too close here. The longer we stay here—already these two months have been too long."

Legolas didn't have to ask who. "I would kill him for you if you would let me."

"I know."

For a long moment they were both silent, just holding each other, before Legolas shifted. "Come, let's get you outside. The forest here will remind you of Mirkwood."

Eldarion grinned. "I could use a hunt."

Legolas smirked. "Good, because the spiders here might possibly be larger than the ones we're used to."

**... ... ... ... ...**

Eldarion looked around in interest at the wizarding town of Hogsmeade. It was vastly different from the non-magical city of London, more like a village such as the ones in Rohan and outside of Gondor but with more of an emphasis on building for frivolous trade that were usually reserved for the larger cities. That was one difference, the other being the varied amount of materials the houses and businesses were constructed of—not to mention the magic holding a lot of it together. Eldarion would love to bring some of these building materials and designs home to his world but some would be impossible; it was hard to build houses of wooden planks when the trees had sentience and would fight against the axe.

Yet even as Eldarion took all this in his focus on his true task never wavered. He was there in defense of the students in case Voldemort's Uruk-creatures attacked. Of course, that didn't stop his roommates from dragging him into the stores with them. The bookstore had been their first stop and he had actually bought a few tomes thanks to Padfoot briefly appearing long enough to press a coin pouch into his hands before taking off again; a note inside had told him to enjoy himself and to follow in the Marauder's legacy—in deference to Sirius' wishes he had bought some prank items from Zonko's Joke Shop. Eldarion would have to thank his godfather later and resolved to bring a nice meal to the cave Padfoot was camping out in. He hadn't been visiting the sneaky Marauder as much as he should have.

"Come on Eldarion." Anthony called. "Come in to Honeydukes. You'll love it."

Eldarion sighed, he had a bad feeling he was going to be dragged into every store before the day was done. Giving a low whistle that would carry for a distance—at least to Elven or Dwarf ears—Eldarion signaled Legolas and Gimli to where he was going. They nodded and Eldarion spent the next half-hour being inducted into the world of wizarding candy. The majority of it he found to be much too sweet for his tastes; he preferred the natural sweetness of honey and certain tree saps and berries over these man-made confections. Chocolate, of course, was the exception and Eldarion bought a few bars to share with Legolas and Gimli.

After leaving Honeydukes Eldarion found himself being pulled towards Dervish & Banges on the outskirts of town—apparently there was a place nearby called the Hog's Head where students could sneak a drink or two—when it happened. Eldarion had been doing a visual sweep of the hills and wooded area outside of the town, peering over the heads of the shorter students he was walking with, when an unusual shifting of the land drew his attention. He knew that movement. It was one he had seen out of the corner of his eye many times as he rode through the forests of Middle-Earth, usually right before a group of starving Uruks had attacked. These Uruks were infinitely more organized and patient than the remaining rabbles that inhabited his homeland; they hadn't yet attacked despite all the easily available victims, which meant somewhere a human was commanding them.

Eldarion turned to Anthony. "Get to one of the portkeys or a safe area. Spread the word as you go but try not to cause a panic. The first sign of panic will lead to an attack."

Anthony went pale—as did the others who were in earshot—but they nodded and did as instructed, Eldarion's calm and easy take-charge manner keeping them from immediate panic. Taking a breath Eldarion let out the danger whistle and began working his way through the town so that he was closer to the danger, alerting students and villagers quietly as he went.

He had just reached Dervish & Banges and everything was going well until someone screamed somewhere behind him. The moment the scream rang out through the village panic ensued, people stampeding and shoving each other in their haste to reach a safe place.

"_Hrekin!_" Eldarion cursed and pushed his way through a panicked crowd of students in time to see a wave of at least fifty or sixty Uruks pour down towards the town.

With concise movements made to seem effortless from years of practice Eldarion freed his bow, knocked an arrow, and let it fly without seeming to even aim. A Uruk went down. In quick succession Eldarion took out a least half a dozen more before they were too close for the bow to be practical. Arrows whizzed past his ear as he drew his sword, Legolas giving him a few more seconds' breathing room as the other elf broke free of the students and townspeople to join him. Now normally at this point of battle when it was time to rush hacking into a horde of enemies Eldarion would yell out a battle cry of encouragement or something to pump the blood of his men but here there was no Gondor or Rohan, no Rivendell or Lothlorian, but there was one piece of home he did have.

"_Andúril_!"

Beside him Legolas and Gimli rallied to his cry, echoing it with one of their own as they rushed forward.

Eldarion's world narrowed and yet seemed to expand as he charged forward, Andúril held in the hasso position with the hilt by his right cheek so his blade was raised high. His world had narrowed so that his focus was only for the opponents he had already singled out, but at the same time he was excruciatingly aware of everything happening around him. It was one of the conundrums of battle.

"_Nadorhuanrim_!" He yelled, a slur against his opponents as he clashed with the first of the Uruks. (_Cowardly Dogs!_)

Andúril moved as an extension of Eldarion's arm, nearly without conscious thought, sweeping in graceful and deadly arcs. His own sword had never felt as right as this in his hand; only Hadhafang had ever felt so easy in his grip but he had set it aside for Vanya to use when she came of age. He had always assumed—despite Aragorn claiming him as his first son—that Calanon would inherit Andúril and Gondor. Eldarion had been taught to rule and was trained to lead, but like Aragorn he preferred a simpler life in the wilds. He had never expected the sword to feel so right in his hand—the Sword of Kings.

Another Uruk fell to join the pile, Andúril cleaving through gnarled flesh and tough sinew to separate the grimacing head from the rest of its body. A growl from behind to his left had him spinning, drawing Andúril back along his right side and thrusting forward before ripping back with an added curve to the movement to do maximum damage. The Uruk fell, disemboweled.

"Eldarion! _Tira ten' rashwe_!"(_Look out!_)

Seeing the intent in Legolas' eyes Eldarion ducked, one of his lover's long-bladed knives whistling through the air over his head to catch the Uruk attempting to sneak up behind him in the chest. Eldarion let his ducking motion take him into a roll, he fought without armor so his movement would be unhindered, coming up beside the dead Uruk to retrieve Legolas' fighting knife.

Knife in his left hand, Andúril in his right, Eldarion carved a short path back to Legolas; he could throw a small dagger with deadly accuracy but didn't have Legolas' skill with the longer blades to feel comfortable winging it through the air. Eldarion swung with both blades one final time, disemboweling with the dagger and finishing off with a clean slash to the neck, before he flipped the fighting knife up and presented it hilt-first to Legolas.

Legolas broke free of his current opponent long enough to grab his blade back, swiveling his body halfway around to finish the kill with a double stroke to the Uruk's throat.

"Eleven!" He called out to Gimli who harrumphed breathlessly.

"That's because you cheated with those blasted arrows of yours, Elf."

Eldarion laughed, refusing to yell out his own score and be bated into the competition the two always engaged in, but he couldn't resist a dig.

"_Lle anta amin tu_, Gimli?" (_Do you need help?_)

"_Auta miqula orqu_, Eldarion." (_Go kiss an orc._)

The friendly, insulting banter continued between the three of them as they felled their enemies, placing their bodies between the Uruks and the village to give the students and residents the chance to escape to safety. They had taken out over half the Uruks at that point, a good 2/3rds of them actually, when another figure joined the fray. Glancing over Eldarion was surprised to see Hogwarts Potion Master was fighting with them, sword moving with deadly intent though he lacked the grace of someone who spent much time with a sword in hand. Eldarion nodded at him and positioned himself so that he was at the other man's back; if he was going to be brave enough to help them fight the least Eldarion could do was keep the Professor from getting killed.

**... ... ... ... ...**

Up on a hill that gave a clear view of the battle going on just outside the village of Hogsmeade stood a man wear the garments and mask of a Death Eater. He had been sent by his Lord and Master to oversee the attack and command the flesh-eating creatures into battle. Now he stood watching as the small troop he had commanded to attack the village was cut down by the trio of outsiders that had come to reside at Hogwarts castle. The deaths of the creatures did not bother him; loss had been expected though not to this great an extent with no death on the other side to weight in the balance. There were plenty more of the creatures waiting to be sent into battle at a moment's notice. No, what bothered him was that three were able to take out almost a full group of sixty. It was a waste he would be punished for, but the punishment would be much more severe if he didn't complete his true reason for coming.

The stranger rumored to be a Dwarf was of no concern or interest to them, but the two Elves…they would be a prize indeed. His mission was to secure the Ambassador's intended. Secure him and they secured the Ambassador, or at least that was the thinking of the Inner Circle. The Death Eater drew his wand, he would only have on chance at this; he had marveled at the battle longer than he should have, studying the tactics of the fighters instead of acting upon his orders. He flicked the wand.

**... ... ... ... ...**

Severus heard the tell-tale _crack_ of apparition and whipped around not a moment too soon to see that a masked Death Eater had appeared next to Eldarion. He didn't stop to think, didn't consider the consequences of his quick action, as he grabbed hold of the Elfling in the same moment the Death Eater did. Eldarion cried out, a sound of pain, and Severus found himself looking down into startled green eyes. He knew those eyes, had been haunted by them ever since that one chance encounter many years ago in Hogwarts dark halls.

"_Harry._" He whispered, his voice nearly unheard as the magic pressed around them and forced them into a side-along apparition with the Death Eater.

* * *

Posted On: June 28, 2009


	23. Lost in the Woods

It's late so this hasn't been as thoroughly proof-read as normal but I wanted to get this posted because I'm going to be moving in a few days and I'm not sure when I'm going to have regular internet access again. Hope to be back with you soon!

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 22: _Lost in the Woods_

_"Elvish"_

**_"Language of Westron"_**

**… … … … …**

They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, one of which being a black-robed arm that was no longer attached to its body. Eldarion didn't cry out again though his body burned with pain, but someone else was. The man who had grabbed him was keening in a high pitched wail, the one arm he had left clutching at the empty stump where he had lost the other. It looked to Eldarion as if the man had lost other appendages, but it was hard to tell with all the cloth from his robe.

A quick check assured Eldarion that while the dying Uruk had done a number to his side, he was not missing any limbs; he would be fine for a bit before he had to see to his wound. His more immediate concern was the Professor. He had remembered the man but had never expected the Potions Master to recognize him, to call him Harry. If anyone was to recognize him he had always assumed it would have been Harlan or the Headmaster—not a man who had only seen him once. But then Sirius had recognized him. Perhaps the others hadn't recognized him because they hadn't wanted to? It was a question to ponder at another time.

Rising to his knees, Andúril thankfully still in hand, Eldarion used the sword hilt to strike a firm blow to the back of the stranger's skull. He really wanted to kill this person who had kidnapped him, but it would be more prudent to question him first. Knowing the unconscious man wouldn't easily wake for some time after that knock to his head Eldarion turned to face Severus Snape. The Professor looked like hell, as if he had been tortured, skin drawn and pale white as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

"_Hrekin_!" Eldarion cursed.

The Professor wasn't in any shape to be of much help at the moment. At least the place they had landed at was a dense forest of some sort instead of a city. Here Eldarion was in his element, they'd be able to survive here for as long as it took to get the Professor on his feet or for him to find a way to get them back to Hogwarts.

"Professor Snape." Eldarion spoke lowly. "Can you tell me what is the matter? What has happened?"

The Professor looked at him, eyes blank with the pain, unaware of his surroundings at the moment. Then he was sick, violently sick, rolling to heave in the grass before passing out. Eldarion sighed and rolled the Potions Master onto his side in case the sickness overtook him again; he had seen downed men die from chocking on their body's waste.

Continuing to ignore his own wound, Eldarion started at Professor Snape's head and worked his way down the man's body to look for injuries. He knew this could be considered a grave breach of personal privacy, but he would apologize later when the man was conscious if it became an issue. It was at the left leg that he found the problem—just below the knee the Potions Master's leg ended in a bloody mass of raw flesh; Eldarion's quick glance around didn't reveal the missing limb anywhere around them.

With quick, jerking movements Eldarion slid his belt free and tied a crude tourniquet to stop the bleeding. Thankfully whatever trauma had caused the leg to detach also seemed to have kept the bleeding from being immediately severe, but Eldarion knew he couldn't leave the injury untended. Unfortunately he lacked knowledge of wizarding healing spells and didn't have his herb satchel on him. He knew of only one option that would work surely enough with what was available, but first he had to see to himself and his prisoner so he could safely set up camp.

It was quick work to strip the unconscious stranger; Eldarion suspected the man was one of those Death Eaters he had heard about due to the branding on his one good arm, leaving him in nothing but his very innermost pants. Once satisfied that the man had no hidden weapons and would be no threat, Eldarion examined the man. Unlike Severus' wounds, the areas where the man was missing body parts had completely cauterized. It was a puzzle for later.

Briefly closing his eyes Eldarion called to the vines of the forest, whispering to them in Elvish. It was a trick _Naneth _had taught him for when rope was lacking. The magic of the Elven people flowed through him with a welcoming and encompassing warmth. Opening his eyes Eldarion watched as the vines rose through the rich earth, twining themselves into a strong braid before wrapping around Eldarion's captive and plunging back into the earth to hold him chained. Giving a satisfied nod, Eldarion rose to his feet and began to gather firewood and within a short bit he had a decent fire going. Luck had been with him and when gathering the wood he had discovered a small stream filled with clean water.

Once satisfied that the fire would not burn out on him, Eldarion turned to his own wounds. Making a quick poultice of mud with leaves to act as the bandage, Eldarion pasted the mixture over his wounded side and used the Death Eater's shirt to bind it. Satisfied that the quick dressing would hold and slow the bleeding, Eldarion picked up a nearby rock and used his magic to hollow the stone into a bowl shape; Severus' wounds would need a more elaborate attention than a simple slapped on bandage and he didn't have a container to boil water in so he settled for making his own rough vessel.

Making a trip back to the stream to scoop up water to heat in the thin stone vessel, Eldarion turned his attention to gathering whatever herbs were nearby. Thankfully he managed to find a few he recognized, willow bark among them. Carefully adding the right mix of herbs to the water he had set to warming by the fire, Eldarion left the pain killer to steep while he continued ripping up the Death Eater's clothes for bandages.

Night was starting to fall when everything was finally ready and he checked on Severus one last time before he started. He was thankfully, at least for what Eldarion had to do, still deeply unconscious. It did not bode well for the man's health though; usually the pain would have at least had him drifting in and out of the forced sleep. Sending a brief prayer to the Valar, Eldarion began the healing, wishing once again that he had gained more than just the minimal amount of Elven healing skills he possessed. If he was more skilled or knew wizarding healing he wouldn't have to rely on such crude, mundane techniques. Eldarion quit that line of thought, he would start stalling if he didn't.

Carefully he poured a bit of the herb mixture over the wound to cleanse it. Setting the bowl down he reached into the fire and grabbed the hilt of one of the daggers he had shoved into the heart of the flames earlier, his hand heavily wrapped to protect him from burns. Without wasting a moment, without giving himself a chance to think, Eldarion pressed the burning hot knife against the Professor's damaged flesh.

The smell of seared flesh immediately filled the air, clogging Eldarion's throat with a cloying odor. Severus' body convulsed, his leg jerking in Eldarion's firm grip as he screamed in pain before blacking out again. Eldarion flipped the knife quickly, allowing the second side of the blade to cauterize another section of flesh. This time there was no reaction from his patient and Eldarion hurried for the second, already heated dagger to finish his distasteful work.

At last it was done, the wound sealed to prevent further bleeding. Exhausted, his own wound aching, Eldarion reached for the herbal mixture. With the ease of someone who had tended the ill before, he tipped the liquid into Severus' mouth until only a pulpy dredge remained and massaged the man's throat to force him into swallowing the bitter drink. Not one to waste anything, Eldarion smeared some of the dredges across the wound before binding it with the ripped cloths.

Satisfied that he had done all he could for the time being, Eldarion mounded leaves under the Professor's leg to elevate it as Elrond had taught him to do with such wounds before covering him with the Death Eater's cloak and coaxing vines to wrap Severus in a blanket. Swallowing the last of the herbal dredges to help with his own pain despite it being not much more than bitter grit, Eldarion wrapped up in his own cloak and slept as well.

… … … … …

Something woke Eldarion and he woke to find the night air cool, the fire he had made earlier nothing more than glowing ash. A moment later and Eldarion pinpointed the source of the noise that had drawn him from sleep. The Death Eater had woken and was struggling against his bonds, attempting to cry out around the vines that had covered his mouth.

"Do not bother." Eldarion warned offhandedly as he rose from his cloak and moved towards Severus. "The Earth does not easily give up that which it has been commanded to hold."

"Mmmph. Mmmmrrrrpph" The Death Eater retorted, but Eldarion just shrugged.

"Threats will get you nowhere either. I have heard more imaginative ones than you could ever utter."

The Death Eater growled, but Eldarion ignored him in favor of Severus. At some point the man had contracted a fever and was now shivering despite Eldarion's earlier care to keep him warm. Eldarion cursed himself for letting the fire burn so low, exhaustion and his own wounds were no excuse. He needed to find shelter for them, his hopes for leaving the area quickly looked now to be in vain and neither of them would get better if they stayed out in the open.

Letting the trees, young though they were compared to those of his home, whisper to him in guidance Eldarion soon found a suitable cave not all that far from the clearing they had landed in. Despite the dark night his keen eyes could see that it wasn't all that large, something that would actually work to their advantage in retaining heat, and it was uninhabited. Eldarion had stayed in caves with various predators before, it wasn't a problem for him, but he would also be the first to admit that both he and his cave mates were usually glad to part ways the next morning.

Glad the young trees had not misled him and shown him to an unsuitable location, Eldarion made quick work of setting a new fire so he could steep more herbs. While the water was heating Eldarion kept busy by gathering fallen leaves and pine needles to heap into a thick bed to cushion them from the hard dirt floor of the cave. Not wanting to waste more time than he had to, Eldarion decided to further trust the trees and forewent scouting beyond the most immediate area outside the cave. Moving as quickly as his side would allow, it had begun to ache more severely, Eldarion made his way back to the clearing where he had left Severus and his prisoner. The Death Eater was dead.

Eldarion sighed as he passed the dead man, slightly put out that he wouldn't be able to get any answers from him. "I told you not to struggle."

Knowing the vines would make short work in disposing of the body by pulling it underground, Eldarion made sure to put out his original fire before he moved Severus. Coaxing the vine blanket away from the feverish man, Eldarion wrapped him more securely in the cloak before lifting him. It wasn't easy, the Potions Master was slightly taller than he himself, but Eldarion managed and got them both back to the cave without mishap.

It would have been so much easier if he had dared use magic to move Severus, but he was a bit worried about the nature of the man's leg wound and knew from Elrond that some forms of magic could actually make magically induced wounds worse. Carefully arranging Severus on the bed and propping his leg up again, Eldarion was pleased to see the wound hadn't reopened. Carefully he coaxed the hot mixture of herbs into Severus to help with the fever before settling down onto the leaves next to the other man, covering them with the cloaks and leaves for added warmth. Eldarion fell asleep whispering a healing chant over Severus and himself. In the morning he would scavenger for a better variety of herbs, but at the moment his first priority was keeping the both of them warm through the rest of the night.

* * *

Posted On: July 30, 2009


	24. Rescue

I'm alive! I'm alive! I'm procrastinating on a History paper…

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from any of them in here.

Chapter 23: _Rescue_

_"Elvish"_

**_"Language of Westron"_**

**… … … … …**

By the time Eldarion woke the next morning it was nearing mid-day; he wasn't one to sleep so late but it had been a restless night and his body still felt tired. Looking next to him he saw the Professor had settled into a restful sleep thanks to the healing chants he had continued to sing during the night when the man's tossing had woken him. If Severus did not worsen then perhaps when he woke up they could work on a way to get back to Hogwarts. Turning his attention to his own wound Eldarion decided that it would need stitches. With a sigh he summoned a bit of vine, cajoling it to form a thin enough thread for his need, and transformed a rock into a needle before starting the uncomfortable task of sewing himself up.

**… … … … …**

Legolas hid his fury and anguish behind a calm façade as they arrived at the Headmaster's office; Gimli was being vocal enough for the both of them.

"…incompetent, orc-kissing—"

Legolas spoke up as they reached the desk, interrupting Gimli's tirade before he could start in on anatomically impossible scenarios involving Oliphaunts and peoples mothers.

"What are we going to do about locating my chosen and bringing him safely back?"

Immediately Gimli stopped ranting and gruffly tried to reassure Legolas, speaking in Westron. "_Eldarion's smart and resourceful—for an Elf. He has his sword and his bow, what else to Eldarion need? He'll be fine. Pity instead the ones who took him_."

"_Thank you my friend_." Legolas laid a hand on Gimli's shoulder, recognizing what the dwarf was doing. "_I do not doubt Eldarion's skill or resourcefulness, but this is still largely an unfamiliar place. Even were he to escape my fear is whether he could find his way back_."

Gimli snorted. "_Would you listen to yourself. This is Eldarion. You taught him. I taught him. Aragorn, Arwen, and Elrond taught him. The twins jokingly called him their triplet. He has had the best teachers of all our races. You're just worrying that he is out there having fun in battle without us._"

Softly, still speaking in Westron so the Headmaster wouldn't understand, Legolas admitted what was really bothering him. "_We have not been so far apart since we bonded. It makes me edgy and uncomfortable._"

Anything Gimli would have said was interrupted by Minerva McGonagall arriving in the office to speak with the Headmaster.

"All the students are accounted for. Poppy will have her hands full with the injured from the panic, but there were no casualties thanks to our guests. Severus is missing however."

"A tall, pale man with dark hair to his shoulders?" Legolas asked, switching to English.

"Yes." Minerva confirmed. "Have you seen him?"

"He grabbed Eldarion right before the masked man did and then there was a loud cracking sound as they disappeared." Legolas informed them.

This led to the Headmaster and Minerva trying to explain wizarding travel to Legolas and Gimli, saying that Eldarion had been stolen away through Forced Apparation. Neither Legolas or Gimli really understood the explanation, the part about splinching made them wonder about the safety of magical travel, but they had to accept that it was what had happened. Furthermore the Headmaster assured them, his eyes twinkling at them as if they were misguided children, that Severus had another form of magical travel—a portkey—so that he could get back with Eldarion.

Legolas and Gimli had nodded their acceptance and left the office to find Remus; they would speak with him and decide what to do from there. The werewolf would have a better handle on the situation and be able to help them launch a search party without the meddling of the Headmaster.

**… … … … …**

A nearly inaudible groan had Eldarion moving quickly from the mouth of the cave where he had just finished stitching himself up to Severus' side.

"You are awake." Eldarion watched as the other man's eyes settled on him. "Your fever seems to have settled. Do you have any pain other than in your leg?"

For a moment the Professor merely stared at him.

"It is you." He finally said. "I knew I hadn't dreamed that night."

Eldarion gave Severus a humorless smile. "I wish you would have thought it a dream. But now is not the time for such discussions. Besides your leg, do you hurt anywhere else? I checked as thoroughly as I could but I could only check for visible injuries and breaks."

Severus held himself very still. "What happened to my leg? Was—did I end up splinched?"

Eldarion shook his head in incomprehension. "I do not know that word, but part of your leg has gone missing. I stopped the bleeding but it is only a field dressing, you will not want to move around much until we can get better care taken of it."

Eldarion didn't bother to sugarcoat things for Severus. He hated when people attempted to do it to him and could tell the Professor would be the same way.

"Splinched." Severus seemed accepting of what had happened though resigned; he also did not seem overly worried. "I just hope someone managed to collect my leg, re-growing limbs is tedious."

Eldarion raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask. "I did not find your leg around where we appeared."

Severus seemed to expect that and turned the conversation to another matter on his mind. "What happened to the Death Eater?"

"Dead." Eldarion didn't see the need to elaborate, but Severus did.

"Did you kill him?"

Eldarion studied Severus for a moment. "Indirectly. I tied him up so I could question him today but he struggled against the bonds holding him and was strangled."

"So you weren't able to find anything out?"

"No. when we first landed the man was in shock, screaming, and later my concerns were elsewhere. In the end we can make a good enough guess as to why he took me. What matters now is finding a way out of here."

Severus started patting at his robes. "Did you happen to find my wand? I had an emergency portkey but it was attached to the shoe of my missing leg."

"There was no wand. Everything that traveled with us I have brought here except for the Death Eater. Perhaps he had a wand, but his body is no longer easily accessible."

"What about your wand?" Severus asked. "Where is yours at?"

Eldarion actually looked sheepish. "I did not take it with me to the village yesterday. I am not used to a stick having so much importance or being considered a weapon. Magic is different where I come from."

"Then we're on our own." Severus sighed. "If we're lucky there will be a village or town nearby where we can get our bearings at. I'm not sure I'm up to going far though."

Eldarion shook his head. "No. You are in no condition to travel. I have some friends I can call upon for help. I had not wished to do so, but there is no other choice."

"Who can you ask for help and how?"

Eldarion ignored Severus' question. "Do you recognize these woods we are in or would you be able to if I helped you to the entrance of the cave?"

Severus shook his head. "It's doubtful that I'll recognize any part of these woods. From what I can see from here they aren't magical and I have no need to venture into mundane forests."

Eldarion nodded his understanding. "Rest then and I will try to guide my friends here though my magical signature. With luck they will be able to come quickly or provide some sort of assistance."

Finding a comfortable spot on the bedding he had spread out on the cave floor, Eldarion fell into a light meditation and opened the link between the collective mind of the dementors and himself. He had been keeping it tightly shuttered while at Hogwarts on the off chance that someone might detect it.

"**_Taran_**." He called, singling out Alara's mate in the chaos of the collective mind. "**_Can you hear me?_**"

"**_I hear you Eldarion-elfling._**" Suddenly it was just the two of them on a private connection, the collective mind fading away.

"**_I do not like to ask this, but I could use some help._**" Eldarion allowed brief flashes of his predicament to flow through the bond.

"**_I see._**" Taran replied. "**_It has been many years since any of us have been allowed to leave the confines of Azkaban unaccompanied by a human official—_**"

"**_I do not wish to get you in trouble for leaving. If you just know of a way I could travel or someone who could come I would be grateful."_** Eldarion broadcasted back, interrupting.

Taran chuckled. "**_We do not fear getting in trouble. We stay at Azkaban because it is comfortable for us and means we do not have to seek for our food. I merely stated what I did because I might have a hard time locating you. I do not know many of the towns or cities of this world any longer; it has changed greatly since we last roamed free."_**

Eldarion focused on his magical signature and let it ripple through the bond he and Taran were communicating through. "**_There. Can you find me by following the direction of my aura?_**"

After a moment Eldarion felt satisfaction from Taran. "**_I can find you. I will call clouds to cover the sun so I may travel sooner, but it will be near night before I reach you._**"

"**_Then in the meantime I will hunt._**" Eldarion sent back. "**_I am suddenly ravenous and I do not doubt my companion is as well._**"

Eldarion looked back at where Severus lay on the bedding he had arranged and deemed it acceptable to leave the man alone for a brief period. "Help will be here later in the day. I will be back in a bit. I am going to see if I can get us some food."

Smoothly Eldarion rose to his feet and slipped from the cave, losing himself in the forest. Thankfully his bow had not been lost when he had been taken and he now strung it and loosely knocked an arrow. The forest was surprisingly full of life. Birds flew overhead and deer grazed the thickets, but the birds were all smaller than he wanted and taking a deer would be wasteful for just the two of them. Eldarion closed his eyes and listened to the forest as Elrond and his father had taught him. There.

Moving through some brush Eldarion found his target. Pulling a second arrow and having it at the ready, Eldarion drew back and let the first arrow fly. A hit. Before the second cony could quite comprehend what had happened to his partner, Eldarion had taken it out too. Glancing at the position of the sun Eldarion saw that it had only taken him a little over half an hour to secure their meal. Singing an Elven tune to himself, Eldarion made his way back to the cave feeling a lot more relaxed.

"We are in luck." Eldarion told Severus as he sat down near the fire. "I hope you like cony."

Severus pulled himself up to a sitting position, careful of his leg and looked critically at the two rabbits.

"Good shots." Severus commented on the arrows still stuck through the rabbits.

Eldarion glanced up as he started skinning the rabbits. "Thank you. Unfortunately I don't have any seasonings on me at the moment, but I found some herbs I can stuff the conys with so they won't taste so bland."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I think the fact that we have anything to eat at all is a good thing. If I had been by myself, without my wand as I am now, I'd be going hungry and praying someone would find me."

Eldarion shrugged, stuffing the rabbits with the herbs so he could arrange them on a spit over the fire. "I was ill-prepared. I should not have left the castle without a basic travel kit, but I was told it was a day of fun and I ignored the possibility of something going wrong."

Silence fell as Eldarion continued tending the conys, occasionally turning them over the fire to keep them from burning. Severus broke the silence.

"What happened to you? Everyone was led to believe you were dead, but I saw you that night. You were kept at Hogwarts. Why? And why are you here now? Does Albus know who you are?"

Eldarion sighed and coaxed the fire to burn a bit hotter, cooking the conys faster. The man was an enigma, one Eldarion wasn't sure whether to trust or not, but Severus knew that he had been born as Harry Potter and that took a lot of Eldarion's choices away from him. The silence stretched on again and Eldarion appreciated Severus giving him a chance to collect his thoughts even though he could tell the Potions Master was getting frustrated.

"Yes, I was at Hogwarts." Eldarion finally spoke up. "I had a nice room with books and toys and Albus was always telling me about Harlan. It wasn't until later that I realized Albus was keeping me in captivity for his own gain. The night you saw me I had become overly curious and snuck out. Eventually Albus moved me elsewhere—Harlan had been dreaming of me apparently."

Eldarion stopped speaking, memories of metal and magic overwhelming him. After a moment he continued. "The mask was the worst part. Albus used it to hide my identity and destroy the connection between Harlan and myself. It was the elves who finally removed it and helped give me a life. I am here now because your war will eventually cause strife for my people and I have the power to stop it before it does. No, Albus does not know who I am and I would keep it that way."

Severus could tell a lot of the story was missing, such as where Eldarion had been taken after Hogwarts, but he didn't press further. Any more trust would have to come with time.

"I won't say anything." Severus vowed. "I've seen what Albus does in the name of the 'Greater Good' and not all of it is pretty. In his own way, he's not much better than the Dark Lord. I'm just relieved to hear that you're here to fight—I've felt nothing but despair watching Harlan as he has grown up."

Eldarion snorted, not deigning to comment, and Severus took the hint to change the conversation and talk about less personal topics as they dug into their respective rabbits. Severus had to hand it to Eldarion, the kid was good; not only could he fight, do field triage, and hunt, but he could cook as well.

**… … … … …**

A few hours later Severus' pain was spiking as he waited for Eldarion to mix together the pain-killing herbs when it started to get overcast outside the cave.

"I thought your friend would have been here by now." Severus snarked despite the fact that it was his own fault he was in pain, having denied hurting on earlier occasions when Eldarion had asked; Eldarion had merely looked at him with knowing eyes but let him be.

Eldarion glanced at the cloudy sky. "Taran will be here momentarily. He's coming with the cloud cover. There, drink this."

Severus obediently drank the medicinal herbs and had just handed the crude bowl back to Eldarion when a bone-piercing chill swept over him and a dark form filled the entrance to the cave.

"No—" Severus moaned, hunting for his wand that wasn't there and attempting to scramble backwards. Eldarion cursed himself for having forgotten how Dementors affected people who hadn't been gifted with immunity.

"Taran, stop!"

Eldarion moved quickly to Severus' side—he had grown to like and respect the grouchy man as they had talked over the past hours—and reached out to him, calling out a protection in Elvish.

"_Vara tel' Seldarine!_"

Instantly Severus relaxed, shielded from the chill of the Dementor, though his body still shook. Eldarion sent healing warmth into Severus to combat the aftereffects of Taran's unintentional draining.

"Bloody hell." Severus cursed as he gazed at Taran, still wary despite not being assaulted by the Dementor's emotional fear. "That's a Dementor."

Eldarion hid a smile. "Yes, Taran is a Dementor."

"You're friends with a Dementor?"

"Eldarion-elfling is our blessed child." Taran spoke, startling Severus. "He lived with us, raised amongst the Shadows until those of the Light claimed him."

Eldarion interrupted before things started going in a direction he didn't want. "Taran, can you carry Severus and guide us out of here? Are we even still in Scotland?"

"Easily Eldarion-elfling." Taran replied. "And no. You are now in England. The nearest of the villages is a decent walk from here, over an hour as I can glide, but it is made up of muggles. I will have to take you a bit further, but I do know of a place where you can find a fire to travel by."

Eldarion nodded. "Then that is where we shall go. Thank you Taran. We'd best move quickly. We've lost a lot of time and Severus really needs true medical help."

Severus hesitated to be carried by Taran, the Dementors were the bogeymen of the wizarding world after all, but he finally agreed when Eldarion argued that Taran could carry him with less awkwardness due to Severus' height and move quicker without needing to rest. With Severus' consent Taran carefully picked the Potions Master up and began to glide through the forest, Eldarion falling into an easy jog that he could keep up for hours.

* * *

Posted On: November 7, 2009


	25. Hogwarts Again

A belated Christmas present.

_ShadeDancer_

_Disclaimer_: I do not own Harry Potter, Man in the Iron Mask, LotR, or anything you might recognize from anything in here.

Chapter 24: _Hogwarts_

_"Elvish"_

**_"Language of Westron"_**

**… … … … …**

Eldarion and Severus stumbled out of the Floo at the Three Broomsticks, Severus holding on tightly to Eldarion for balance; Taran had parted ways with them so as not to cause a panic and reveal Eldarion's connection to the Dementors. A few people glanced up but no one spared them a second glance despite their rough appearance, something for which both were grateful.

"There." Severus whispered, pointing to a woman bustling around.

Eldarion nodded as he helped settle Severus into a free table before signaling Madam Rosemerta over.

"What can I—Professor Snape! Then this must be the Eldarion that went missing too?"

"Yes ma'am. It's a pleasure to meet you. We wanted to see if you possibly had an emergency portkey for Hogwarts we could use. The Professor is not in well enough shape to make the walk if it can be avoided."

Madam Rosemerta glanced at Severus' pale face before bustling away, coming back a few moments later with a tray of stew and a child's toy.

"Here, eat up. It's on the House." She urged them and Severus and Eldarion were only too happy to comply despite wanting to get to Hogwarts—it had been about eight hours since they had eaten the rabbits. "I don't have any of the emergency portkeys to take you directly to the school left, but I do have one that will take you to the gates. That'll cut out about half your walk and I can send some lads with you to help you get the rest of the way."

Eldarion shared a glance with Severus.

"Thank you Madam Rosemerta." Severus spoke. "We'll take the portkey but we won't trouble anyone to accompany us, it'll save them having to walk back."

"Well, if you're sure—"

Eldarion finished sopping up the stew with the thick, homemade bread. "That was delicious. Thank you ma'am."

"Oh it was no trouble dear." She patted Eldarion's shoulder, her eyes darting quickly to and away from his ears for what had to be the third or fourth time. "I'm just glad to see you're both alright."

Eldarion looked over to see Severus had finished his stew as well.

"We had best be going. I'm sure they're worried up at the school. We probably should not have lingered to eat, but even had we not been so hungry your food smelled too good to pass up."

Madam Rosmerta blushed at Eldarion's compliment before bustling off, glancing back one final time. Eldarion would have almost thought he had accidentally made her Elf-struck, but she hadn't attempted to latch onto him or try and make him stay so he figured she was merely curious.

Together Eldarion and Severus grasped the portkey and seconds later they were whisked away. They landed hard outside the gates of Hogwarts, only Eldarion's quick reflexes keeping Severus from falling.

"Sorry." Eldarion apologized as he looped Severus' arm over his shoulder to balance the professor. "We should have stood first. I guess neither of us was thinking."

Severus grunted and leaned into Eldarion so the Elfling was supporting a good deal of his weight; even after the brief rest at the Three Broomsticks he was still exhausted and in rough shape.

"Let's just get to the school."

Slowly Eldarion and Severus made their awkward way up the long path to Hogwart's front doors, Severus refusing to stop and rest, conversation nearly non-existent as Severus conserved his strength for movement.

"You'd think with as many people as there are here that someone would have seen us and come to help." Eldarion huffed in disbelief as they finally reached the school.

Severus snorted. "They're probably all at dinner."

Eldarion glanced at Severus. "I still think it is foolish not to have a security or guard detail patrolling around."

Severus wearily shook his head. "The wards usually alert the Headmaster to trespassers or visitors to the grounds, but as we are allowed here the wards did not go off."

Eldarion shook his head in disgust. "You rely too much on magic. Magic can be fooled. That is not to say a guard cannot be, but by using both you have a higher security."

Severus shrugged as they crossed the entrance hall towards the Great Hall. "Many wizards don't know how to do things without magic, only those of us who grew up in the muggle world still have the common sense to see that magic isn't the only tool in this world. It's why we had to look for help with the creatures—they resist all but our most powerful spells and not many can cast with enough strength to take out more than a handful."

Eldarion sighed, uttered a well chosen curse in Dwarvish, before asking. "Do you have an idea how many more Uruk-hai Voldemort has?"

Severus flinched and his face briefly darkened with what looked like guilt before answering. "Close to a thousand the last I knew. He has used this new army sparingly, most likely in an attempt to build the population to the point where there is no chance of stopping it."

Eldarion halted them before the doors to the Great Hall. "Do you know what his first target will be? I have seen your mark; I know you once followed him and do not hold it against you. If you have useful information we need to know it—I need to know it so a counterattack can be formed."

Severus met Eldarion's eyes. "The Headmaster already knows. I don't know why you weren't told. It will be here. He will destroy the school, destroy the Boy-who-lived and the future of the wizarding world, and by doing so he will have destroyed the spirit of our society. The Ministry is already his though they don't know it, he has spies everywhere, Hogwarts is the only true thing standing in his way."

Eldarion nodded. It was as he had expected. Now having the information he needed, Eldarion took a firmer hold on Severus and pushed the doors to the Great Hall open. Noise immediately enveloped them only to quickly die off as more and more people caught sight of them.

"_Melamin_." The word escaped Legolas' mouth as he was already halfway towards Eldarion. Eldarion had just enough time to help Severus lean up against the door frame before he was wrapped up in Legolas' arms.

"_Amin nae'ereb avaene lle_." Eldarion managed to whisper before Legolas caught his lips in a possessive kiss. (rough: _I missed you_.)

"_Amin dele ten'lle_." Legolas said when they both needed to come up for air, their foreheads resting against one another so that their breaths mingled. (_I worried about you._)

"_Amin hiraetha_." Eldarion was interrupted by Gimli thumping him on the back. (_I'm sorry._)

"I knew you'd be fine." The Dwarf was all hearty cheer before his next words descended into a rough growl. "Don't ever do that to us again. I can't stand the Elf's whining."

Eldarion laughed. "I will try, Gimli. Thank you for worrying."

Gimli humphed and Eldarion turned his head to see Severus being forced onto a floating stretcher by the school's healer, the Headmaster standing nearby with twinkling eyes as if nothing had happened, as if one of his teachers was not missing a leg. Eldarion wanted to smack the old man.

"Eldarion." Legolas gently drew his mate's attention back to him. "Let us head to my chambers. I will tend any injuries you have and you can tell us what happened."

Eldarion nodded and allowed Legolas to draw him into his side as they headed for the door.

"And just where do you think you're going?" The Healer was suddenly there, scolding. "You'll be heading to the hospital wing as well young man."

Eldarion shook his head. "I am fine milady. What little injury I have sustained can be capably tended by my mate. See to the professor instead. I did what I could to tend him but it was a crude healing that should be better tended by you."

Madam Pomfrey studied Eldarion for a moment longer. "Oh, go on, but you had better come see me in the morning. Do not make me come looking for you. And the name is Poppy, not milady."

Gracing Poppy with a smile, Eldarion continued out with Legolas only to be stopped again.

"Eldarion, my boy, if you could head to my office I have a few questions for you."

Eldarion didn't bother to turn. "I will speak with you in the morning after I check on Professor Snape and honor my visit to Poppy."

Eldarion gave Legolas an unnoticeable nudge to get him walking again and they, along with Gimli and Remus, escaped to the sanctity of their chambers. Once there Eldarion found himself summarily stripped of his shirt so that Legolas could tend his wound while he told his companions of his kidnapping between eating bites of the food brought by a house-elf.

Together the four discussed the implications of Eldarion's kidnapping, as well as the information he had learned from Severus, until Legolas noticed Eldarion was falling asleep against him.

"_Esta_, _melamin_." Legolas said as he lifted Eldarion and tucked him into bed before joining him, mindful of the wound on Eldarion's side. "You are safe now." (_Rest, my love.)_

Eldarion smiled. "I will always be safe with you, _cormamin_." (_my heart._)

Legolas continued to stay awake long after Eldarion had drifted off, finally voicing his fears when he knew only the darkness could hear.

"I don't know how well I can protect you here where magic can so easily steal you away. I am afraid of failing you Eldarion."

Only silence and Eldarion's sleeping breaths answered him.

**… … … … …**

True to his word Eldarion presented himself at the hospital wing the next morning to allow Poppy to look him over, Legolas having reluctantly allowed him to go alone. Quietly she poked at him with her wand, making an occasional noise as something interested her, before she finally twirled her wand at his wound to seal it over.

"Whatever you did yourself had already begun the healing or that wouldn't have worked so neatly." Poppy informed him. "Wounds caused by those creatures are nasty to heal."

She turned to poke at the poultice she had removed from his side. "Whatever you used in this seems to have actually cleansed the wound. It certainly did wonders for saving Severus. Perhaps you could teach me some of your medicines?"

Eldarion inclined his head. "I can try, but much of it is simply herb lore augmented by Elvish magic. How is the Professor doing?"

Poppy tisked. "He's such a difficult patient and it doesn't help that his leg wasn't found. I'm having to re-grow the missing bones, which is painful in its own right, but I'm also going to have to recreate the flesh as well. He'll be a little awkward and surly for a few days until the process is finished."

Eldarion couldn't help but be intrigued. "Is it something I can see?"

"Actually, Severus has been asking for you. He also mentioned you might have a painkiller he can take. Currently he can't take any of the potions we have on hand because they interfered with the effectiveness of the Skelegro and could cause bone mutations. Unfortunately Severus is also the only person in this castle I would trust to be capable enough to brew the potions he could take, they are extremely complex."

Eldarion shrugged. "I do not think it will interfere given it is natural instead of magical, but we will discuss it first with the Professor to make sure since I do not know much of your medicines. I can attempt to modify things in the pain medicine should the original composition prove a risk."

"You do that." Poppy told him as she led him back towards the private room Severus was currently occupying. "Maybe you can keep Severus distracted enough with that discussion that he'll stop trying to sneak out every time my back is turned."

Eldarion couldn't help but crack a smile as he entered the room, it did not surprise him that the man was trying to sneak out despite having to have a leg re-grown. Eldarion found himself extremely curious about the process; he had never considered it possible to re-grow a leg, but then again now that he knew it was possible all sorts of ideas were running through his mind on how it could be possible—especially with Elven magic. The fact that he was so curious about it was Eldarion's excuse for the first thing that popped out of his mouth after greeting Severus.

"How are you feeling today? Can I see your leg?"

For a long moment Severus just stared at the young Elf before he suddenly burst out laughing, making Poppy decide that a quick exit was in order.

* * *

Posted On: December 28, 2010


End file.
